*-. 


VOLUME    XVIII  WINTER    1 907  NUMBER    IV 

|  TO  THE  STARS* 

(A  drama  in  four  acts) 

BY  LEONID  ANDREIEFF 

Translated  from  the  Russian  by  Dr.  A.  Goudiss 

CHARACTERS 

SERGiusNiKOLAiEViTcnTERNOVSKY,  a  Russian  scientist  living  abroad, 
director  of  an  observatory,  renowned,  member  of  many  academies  and 
scientific  societies.  He  is  a  man  of  about  fifty-six  years  of  age,  but  looks 
younger,  with  easy,  quiet,  and  very  precise  movements.  His  gesticulations, 
too,  are  reserved  and  correct  —  nothing  superfluous.  He  is  polite  and 
attentive,  but  with  it  all  he  appears  cold. 

INNA  ALEXANDROVNA,  his  wife,  of  about  the  same  age. 

ANNA,  their  daughter,  a  young  lady  of  about  twenty-five,  handsome  and 
cold;  dresses  unbecomingly. 

PETIA  (Peter),  their  son,  a  youth  aged  eighteen,  pale,  delicate,  graceful, 
with  dark,  wavy  hair,  wears  a  white  turned-down  collar. 

NIKOLAI  (Nicholas),  their  son.     A  young  man,  aged  twenty-seven. 

VERCHOVTZEFF,  VALENTINE  ALEXEIEVITCH,  Anna's  husband.  A 
red-haired  man  of  thirty;  self-confident,  commanding,  sarcastic,  and  at 
times  coarse.  A  civil  engineer. 

MARUSIA  (Mary),  a  handsome  young  lady  of  twenty,  NIKOLAI'S  bride. 

POLLOCK,  a  tall,  bony  man,  thirty-two  years  old,  with  a  large,  hairless 
head.  Correct;  mechanical.  Smokes  cigars.  TERNOVSKY'S  assistant. 

LUNTZ,  YOSIPH  ABRAMOVITCH,  a  young  man  of  Jewish  extraction, 
aged  twenty-eight.  From  handling  mathematical  instruments  he  has 
acquired  the  habit  of  being  precise  and  reserved  in  his  movements,  but 
when  provoked  he  forgets  himself  and  gesticulates  with  all  the  passion  of  a 
Soulterner-Semite.  TERNOVSKY'S  assistant. 

*Copyright,  1907,  by  The  Poet  Lore  Company.     All  rights  reserved. 


K25 


4i8  TO  THE  STARS 

ZHITOFF,  VASSILY  VASSILIEVITCH,  a  large,  hairy,  awkward  (bearlike) 
gentleman,  of  an  undetermined  age.  He  is  constantly  sitting.  Good 
looking  in  a  certain  sense.  TERNOVSKY'S  assistant. 

TREITCH,  a  workman,  aged  thirty,  dark,  slender,  and  very  handsome. 
Has  deeply  arched  brows;  farsighted.  Unassuming,  serious,  and  not 
communicative. 

SCHTOLTZ,  young,  little,  with  small  but  regular  features;  dresses  neatly; 
speaks  with  a  thin  voice.  Has  an  insignificant  appearance. 

MINNA,  a  maid-servant. 

FRANTZ,  a  male-servant. 

An  old  woman. 

ACT  I 

An  observatory  in  the  mountains,  night.  Two  rooms;  the  first  is  a  kind 
of  dining-room  with  thick,  white  walls;  the  windows,  through  which  some- 
thing white  is  seen  tossing  about  in  the  darkness,  have  very  wide  sills;  a  huge 
fireplace  with  burning  blocks;  the  room  is  furnished  in  a  simple  and  strict 
fashion,  lacking  soft  furniture  and  curtains;  a  few  engravings  on  the  walls, 
portraits  of  astronomers,  and  the  Men  of  the  East  appearing  before  Christ, 
attracted  by  the  star.  A  staircase  leading  into  TERNOVSKY'S  library  and  studio. 
The  next  is  a  large  working  studio,  resembling  the  front  one  but  without  the 
fireplace.  A  few  tables;  photographs  of  stars  and  the  surface  of  the  moon  on 
the  walls;  some  simple  astronomical  instruments.  In  the  front  room,  seated 
at  the  table,  TERNOVSKY'S  assistant,  POLLOCK,  is  seen  working;  PETIA  is 
reading;  LUNTZ  nervously  paces  the  room',  outside  the  mountain  a  snowstorm 
is  heard  whistling  and  wailing;  the  wood  is  crackling  in  the  fireplace;  the 
German  cook  is  making  coffee.  Ths  signal  bell  is  ringing  rhythmically  and 
monotonously  calling  lost  ones. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Ringing,  ringing,  but  of  no  use.  Four  days 
have  passed  and  not  a  soul  has  shown  up.  You  wait  and  wait  and  wonder 
if  the  people  are  alive  at  all. 

Petia  (raising  his  head}. —  But  who  should  come  ?  And  who  would 
come  up  here  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  One  can't  tell;  somebody  might  come  up  from 
below. 

Petia. —  The  people  are  not  disposed  to  climb  mountains. 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  the  situation  is  rather  an  embarrassing  one,  no  roads, 
and  we  are  as  if  in  a  besieged  city, —  neither  out  nor  in. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  And  in  a  few  days  we'll  have  nothing  to  eat, 
either. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  419 

Zhitoff. —  Then  we'll  do  without. 

Inna  *  Alexandrovna. —  It  is  all  very  well  for  you  to  talk  that  way. 
Vassily  Vassilievitch,  you  can  live  on  your  own  fat  for  days,  but  what  is 
Sergius  Nikolaievitch  going  to  do  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  put  some  provisions  away  for  him  and  the  rest  will 
have  to  do  without.  I  say,  Luntz,  O  Luntz,  you'd  better  sit  down!  (LuNTZ 
does  not  reply,  and  keeps  on  pacing.} 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  a  country.  Just  wait  a  moment.  I  think 
some  one  is  knocking.  Just  a  moment!  (Listens.}  No,  I  was  mistaken. 
What  a  storm !  You  seldom  see  such  storms  in  your  region. 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  we  have  them  in  the  Stepps. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  don't  know.  I  never  lived  in  the  Stepps. 
How  the  windows  are  shaking! 

Petia. —  You  are  waiting  in  vain,  mamma,  no  one  will  come. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  perhaps  ?  (A  pause.}  Think  I'd  better 
read  the  old  papers  again.  But  I've  read  them  a  dozen  times.  Yosiph 
Abramovitch,  you  haven't  heard  anything,  have  you  ? 

Luntz  (stopping}. —  Where  in  the  world  can  I  get  news  from  ?  What 
strange  questions  you  ask.  By  God,  it  is  unbearable!  Just  ask  yourself, 
where  could  I  obtain  news. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Come,  come,  Luntz,  don't  be  angry.  My 
heart  bleeds  when  I  think  of  what  is  going  on  there.  O  God! 

Zhitoff. —  They're  fighting. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  They're  fighting!  It  is  so  easy  for  you  to  say 
that,  for  none  of  your  own  are  fighting.  But  I  have  children  there!  And 
one  is  shut  off"  from  the  world  as  though  living  in  the  woods, —  worse  than 
that,  for  in  the  woods  one  can  at  least  see  a  bird  flying  by,  or  a  rabbit  jump 
about,  but  here 

Luntz  (pacing  the  -floor}. —  Maybe  they  have  already  won  a  complete 
victory.  Perhaps  they  have  already  erected  a  new  structure  upon  the  ruins 
of  the  old  one. 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  think  so.  At  any  rate,  it  didn't  look  like  it  some  days 
ago. 

Petia. —  Why  do  you  doubt  it  ?  Haven't  you  read  in  the  papers  of  the 
resignation  of  the  ministry,  and  don't  you  know  that  the  city  has  been 
barricaded  and  the  people  are  already  in  possession  of  the  Town  Hall,  and 
in  five  days  a  great  many  more  changes  may  have  taken  place  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  it  may  be,  it  is  hard  to  tell.  Luntz,  you'd  better  sit 
down.  According  to  my  estimation  you've  made  for  the  last  couple  of  days 
at  least  two  hundred  miles. 


420  TO  THE  STARS 

Luntz. —  Please  let  me  alone!  I  don't  interfere  with  your  affairs,  and 
let  me  mind  my  own,  also.  How  rude  it  is  to  force  oneself  into  the  soul 
of  another.  Why  don't  I  say  to  you  *  Wake  up,  Zhitoff!  Don't  be  sleeping 
all  the  time;  you've  already  slept  away  a  lifetime.'  I  don't  say  that. 

(PETIA  approaches  LUNTZ  and  addresses  him  in  a  subdued  voice;  they 
walk  alongside  each  other,  exchanging  words  occasionally.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (whispering  to  Zhitoff). —  How  touchy  he  is!  Well, 
V?vSsily  Vassilievitch,  why  not  have  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  drown  our  sorrow, 
as  the  saying  is  ? 

Zhitoff. —  I'd  rather  have  tea. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  yes!  so  would  I,  but  where  can  you  get  it  ? 
I  should  certainly  enjoy  a  cup  of  tea  myself,  especially  with  raspberry  juice, — 
it's  delicious! 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  sugar  would  do  for  me. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Isn't  it  strange,  Vassily  Vassilievitch,  how  I  got 
used  to  everything  here;  the  mountains,  the  society  of  people, —  in  a  word 
to  everything.  But  there  is  one  thing  that  I  cannot  quite  forget,  and  that 
is  the  birch  grove.  As  soon  as  I  recall  it,  and  begin  to  brood  over  it,  I  get 
so  nervous  that  I  must  cry  for  a  couple  of  hours.  We  had  in  our  estate  a 
mansion,  built  upon  a  hill  and  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  birch  grove.  Oh, 
what  a  grove!  After  the  rain  it  would  give  off  such  a  delicious  fragrance  that 
—  that—  -(wipes  her  eyes). 

Zhitoff. —  Why  shouldn't  you  take  a  trip  to  Russia  for  a  few  months  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  how  can  I  leave  him  alone  ?  He  has  tried 
to  persuade  me  to  go  many  a  time,  but  it  is  impossible.  He  may  be  suddenly 
taken  sick;  we  are  youngsters  no  more,  you  know. 

Zhitoff. —  I'll  take  care  of  him. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  no!  there  it  is  no  use  talking:  I  won't  go.  As 
for  the  birch  grove,  I'll  try  to  get  along  without  it.  I  merely  mentioned  it 
in  passing.  It  is  not  so  bad  here,  after  all.  Spring  is  coming 

Zhitoff. —  And  if  he  were  sent  away  to  Siberia,  would  you  follow  him  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  And  why  not  ?  I  suppose  there  are  people  in 
Siberia,  too. 

Zhitoff. —  You  are  a  darling,  Inna  Alexandrovna. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (gently). —  And  you,  stupid  boy,  mustn't  talk  that 
way  to  an  old  woman.  By  the  way,  why  don't  you  get  married  ?  You 
could  live  with  your  wife  right  here  with  us. 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  no,  how  can  I?  You  know  I  am  a  nomadic  animal. 
Can  hardly  remain  in  one  place. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (smiling). —  Oh,  yes!  you  look  it! 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  421 

Zhitoff. —  I  am  here  to-day — maybe  somewhere  else  to-morrow.  I 
shall  soon  give  up  astronomy,  too.  I  must  see  Australia  yet! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  for  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  just  to  see  how  some  people  live  in  this  world  of  ours. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But,  Vassily  Vassilievitch,  you  have  no  money. 
Only  those  can  afford  to  travel  who  have  plenty  of  coin. 

Zhitoff. —  I  am  not  going  to  travel.  I  shall  try  to  get  some  employment 
on  the  railroad  or  in  a  factory. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What,  an  astronomer  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  it  is  not  so  difficult  to  accomplish.  I  am  familiar  with 
mechanics  and  not  being  spoiled,  —  I  need  but  very  little. 

(A  pause.     The  storm  is  raging  harder.) 

Petia. —  Mamma,  where  is  papa  ?     Is  he  working  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Yes;  he  asked  not  to  be  disturbed. 

Petta  (shrugging  his  shoulders). —  I  can't  understand  how  he  can  work 
in  such  a  time. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Well,  you  see  he  can.  You  think  it  would  be 
better  for  him  to  sit  around  idle  ?  Here  is  Pollock  working,  too! 

Petia. —  Oh,  well,  Pollock !  Who  says  anything  about  him  —  Pollock ! 
(PETIA  whispering  to  LUNTZ.) 

Zhitoff. —  Pollock  is  a  man  with  talent.  I  predict  he'll  become  famous 
in  about  five  years  from  now.  An  energetic  fellow!  (!NNA  ALEXANDROVNA 
is  smiling.) 

What  are  you  laughing  about  ?     Don't  you  think  I  am  right  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  am  not  laughing  at  your  words.  But  I  must 
say  Pollock  is  very  odd  looking.  I  know  it  is  not  right  to  laugh,  but  one 
can't  control  oneself  at  times.  He  reminds  me  of  some  instrument, —  by 
the  way,  what  instrument  do  we  have  that  looks  like  him  ? 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  know. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  An  astrolabe,  I  think. 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  know.  I  must  say  it  is  certainly  a  mystery  to  me  how 
you  allow  yourself  to  laugh. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (sighing). — Let  me  tell  you  one  can't  do  without 
laughing  at  times.  A  good  hearty  laugh  is  very  beneficial  under  certain 
circumstances.  Let  me  relate  to  you  a  very  amusing  incident  of  mine.  It 
happened  during  our  journey  from  Russia.  Times  were  very  bad  with  us. 
Besides  our  traveling  expenses  we  had  but  very  little  money  to  spare.  And 
what  do  you  think  I  did  ?  Lost  our  tickets.  And  how  it  ever  happened  —  I 
am  puzzled  to  this  very  day.  I  had  never  lost  a  pin  in  my  life  before  and 
now 


422  TO  THE  STARS 

Zhitoff. —  Where  did  it  happen  —  in  Russia  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  If  it  only  had  been  in  Russia.  No,  we  were 
already  abroad.  Here  we  were,  the  whole  bunch  of  us,  surrounded  by  all 
kinds  of  bundles,  waiting  in  some  Austrian  station, —  and  as  I  was  thus 
sitting  brooding  over  our  condition  —  I  accidentally  cast  my  eyes  upon  one 
of  our  bundles  —  a  pillow,  I  think  it  was, —  and  was  seized  with  such  a  fit 
of  laughter  that  upon  my  word  I  am  ashamed  of  it  yet! 

Zhitoff. —  Tell  me,  Inna  Alexandrovna,  I  have  never  been  able  to  find 
out,  why  has  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  been  banished  from  Russia  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  No,  he  wasn't;  he  left  the  country  of  his  own 
accord.  He  had  a  misunderstanding  with  some  of  the  authorities;  they 
wanted  him  to  sign  some  kind  of  a  disagreeable  paper,  which,  of  course, 
he  flatly  refused  to  do.  Then  he  had  a  few  sharp  words  with  the  minister 
himself,  telling  him  what  he  thought  of  him.  So  we  left  the  country. 
Meanwhile  he  had  been  offered  this  observatory;  and  here  we  are,  sir,  living 
upon  these  rocks  some  twelve  years  already. 

Zhitoff.—  Then  he  can  go  back,  if  he  wants  to  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  what  for  ?  You  know  you  can't  find  such  an 
observatory  in  Russia. 

Zhitoff. —  But  the  birch  grove  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  don't  talk  nonsense.  Wait,  some  one  is 
knocking  (wailing  of  the  storm). 

Zhitoff. —  No,  no;  you  are  only  imagining. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  perhaps  —  Minna  dear,  suppose  you  go 
down  and  find  out  if  anybody  has  arrived.  Oh,  that  infernal  bell  will  drive 
me  crazy,  I  always  imagine  that  some  one  is  coming  or  going.  Hark! 
(The  bell  is  heard  ringing,  the  storm  raging.) 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  these  March  storms  are  very  violent,  as  a  rule.  Down 
below  the  people  are  enjoying  spring,  and  we  are  in  the  midst  of  winter 
up  here.  I  reckon  the  almonds  are  through  blossoming  already. 

Minna. —  No  one  has  come,  madame! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  what  is  happening  there  ?  What  is  going  on 
there  ?  I  am  so  anxious  for  my  Kolenka  [Nicholas],  I  know  him  so  well; 
he  wouldn't  stop  for  anything  —  a  gun,  a  cannon  —  he  doesn't  care. 
O  God!  I  can  hardly  think  of  it!  If  I  could  only  get  a  word  from  him. 
Four  anxious  days  passed  —  just  like  being  in  a  grave. 

Zhitoff. —  Please  stop  worrying.  You'll  soon  be  able  to  find  out  every- 
thing. The  barometer  is  rising. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  If  he  were  only  fighting  for  his  own  country's 
cause.  But  to  fight  in  a  foreign  land  and  for  a  strange  people  —  what 
business  has  he  to  do  it  ? 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  423 

Petia  (passionately). —  Nicholas  is  a  hero!  He  is  for  all  the  oppressed 
and  the  downtrodden,  whosoever  they  may  be.  All  men  are  equal  and  it 
matters  not  what  country  they  belong  to. 

Luntz. —  Strangers!  Country,  government  —  I  cannot  comprehend. 
What  do  you  mean  by  strangers,  government  ?  It  is  these  divisions  and 
separations  that  create  so  many  slaves,  for  when  one  house  is  being  pillaged 
and  robbed,  the  people  of  the  next  one  look  on  quietly;  and  while  people  of  one 
house  are  being  murdered  the  people  of  the  next  one  say,  '  That  does  not 
concern  us.'  Our  own.  Strangers!  Here  I  am  —  a  Jew;  have  no  country 
of  my  own  —  therefore  I  must  be  a  stranger  to  all  ?  No,  not  at  all.  I  am 
a  brother  to  all !  Yes !  (pacing)  yes ! 

Petia. —  Indeed  it  is  absurd  to  divide  this  earth  of  ours  into  districts. 

Luntz  (pacing  nervously). — Yes,  all  you  hear  is  our  own.  Strangers! 
Niggers!  Jews! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Again!  again  you  are  singing  the  same  old  song! 
You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves !  Did  I  say  anything  ?  Do  I  say 
that  Kolenka  is  not  doing  the  right  thing  ?  Haven't  I  urged  him  myself, 
saying: '  Go,  Kolenka  dear,  make  haste,  for  you'll  only  torture  yourself  here.' 
O  God!  I  blaming  my  Kolenka,  I  merely  say  that  I  am  sick  at  heart. 
Don't  forget  what  a  miserable  and  weary  week  I've  passed.  You  are  all 
resting  peacefully,  but  I  am  passing  sleepless  nights,  always  watching,  always 
listening  —  but  always  to  the  same  thing:  to  the  storm  and  the  bell,  the  bell 
and  the  storm  —  wailing  as  though  burying  somebody.  No,  I  fear  I  shall 
never  behold  dear  Kolenka !  (The  storm  and  the  bell.) 

Petia  (tenderly). —  Don't  worry,  mamma  dear,  please  don't!  Every- 
thing will  turn  out  all  right.  He  is  not  alone  there;  and  what  makes  you 
think  that  something  will  necessarily  happen  to  him  ?  Be  calm,  please. 

Zhitoff. —  Besides,  Marusia  and  Anna  with  her  husband  are  there  also. 
They'll  take  care  of  him.  Then  you  know  how  he  is  beloved  by  every  one, 
and  like  a  general  he  is  surrounded  by  a  staff  that  will  protect  him  all  right. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  but  I  can't  help  it!  But 
pray,  don't  bring  in  Marusia  as  an  example.  Anna  is  prudent,  but  Marusia 
—  she'll  run  to  the  front  ahead  of  others !  I  know  her. 

Petia. —  What  would  you  want  her  to  do  ?  You  surely  don't  expect 
Marusia  to  hide  herself? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Again!  Go  ahead  and  fight  as  long  as  you 
please,  I  don't  object  to  it.  Only  don't  try  to  comfort  me  as  though  I  were  a 
child.  I  know  what  I  know  —  I  am  no  baby.  Some  years  ago  I  had  a 
fight  with  wolves  myself.  There  you  have  it! 

Zhitoff. —  What,  you  fighting  wolves  ?  I  didn't  expect  you  to  be  such 
a  heroine!  How  did  you  come  to  do  it  ?  Tell  us. 


424  TO  THE  STARS 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  nonsense.  I  was  returning  home  one  win- 
ter night  on  horseback,  when  suddenly  I  was  attacked  by  a  bunch  of  them. 
I  frightened  them  off  with  my  gun. 

Zhitoff. —  What,  you  can  shoot,  too  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Vassily  Vassilievitch,  one  living  a  life  like  ours 
must  learn  everything.  I  have  accompanied  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  on  an 
expedition  to  Turkestan  and  rode  fifteen  hundred  miles  on  horseback, 
manlike  fashion.  But  that  isn't  all.  I  have  had  some  other  adventures: 
Was  once  drowning,  twice  burning.  .  .  .  Let  me  tell  you,  however,  Vassily 
Vassilievitch,  there  is  nothing  more  terrible  in  this  world  than  a  sick  child. 

7  O 

Once  during  an  expedition,  Kolushka  (Nicholas)  was  taken  sick  with  a 
sore  throat.  We  thought  at  first  it  was  diphtheria.  You  can  imagine  our 
anxiety.  Without  a  physician,  without  medicine,  the  nearest  village  being 
some  fifty  miles  off.  I  ran  out  from  the  tent  and  threw  myself  on  the  ground 
with  such  force  that  it  is  even  awful  to  think  of  it  now.  I  had  already  lost 
two  children,  you  know,  one  at  the  age  of  seven,  Serge  was  his  name;  the 
other  when  quite  a  baby. 

Anuto  [Anna],  too,  once  nearly  died;  but  why  recall  those  days  ?  Hard 
is  the  lot  of  a  mother,  Vassily  Vassilievitch!  Thank  God  for  having  given 
me  at  least  good  children. 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  your  Nicholas  is  a  wonderful  young  man ! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Nicholas,  oh,  yes!  I  have  seen  a  good  many 
people  in  my  life,  but  have  never  met  such  a  noble  soul.  I  said  a  while  ago 
he  had  no  business  to  fight  for  other  people's  cause  —  one  can  see  at  once 
that  I  am  selfish;  but  Kolenka,  if  he  saw  a  lion  destroying  an  anthill  —  I 
assure  you  he  would  rush  at  him  with  bare  arms.  That's  his  nature.  Oh, 
what  is  happening  there  ?  What  is  going  on  there  ? 

Zhitoff. —  If  I  could  only  give  up  the  idea  of  going  to  Australia. 

Pollock  (entering). —  Perhaps  you  will  have  a  cup  of  black  coffee, 
esteemed  Inna  Alexandrovna. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Why  certainly,  certainly!     Minna!  (appearing). 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  how  are  things,  colleague  ? 

Pollock. —  Quite  well.     What  are  you  doing  ?     Idle  as  ever  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Look  at  the  weather;  how  can  one  work.  Besides,  the 
events 

Pollock. —  You'd  better  say  Russian  indolence. 

Zhitoff. —  It  might  be  indolence.     Who  can  tell  ? 

Pollock. —  It  isn't  right,  dear  comrade.  Luntz,  have  you  finished 
Sergius  Nikolaievitch's  mathematical  tables  yet  ? 

Luntz  (sharply). —  No! 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  425 

Pollock.—  Too  bad! 

Luntz. —  Bad  or  good  —  that  does  not  concern  you.  You  are  only  an 
assistant  like  myself  and  have  no  right  to  reprimand  me.  Yes ! 

Pollock  (turning  aside  and  shrugging  his  shoulders], —  Order  the  coffee 
to  be  brought  into  my  room,  will  you,  Zhitoff  ? 

Zhitoff. —  All  right.     What  is  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  working  on  now  ? 

Pollock. —  Oh,  he  has  lots  of  work  on  hand.  I  am  a  hard  worker 
myself,  but  I  certainly  admire  his  tenacity  and  power  of  intellect.  He  has 
a  wonderful  brain,  Zhitoff!  It  seems  to  be  able  to  withstand  the  hardest 
kind  of  friction,  just  like  some  of  our  instruments.  He  works  with  the 
regularity  of  a  clock,  too.  I  am  certain  one  couldn't  find  one  single  error 
in  all  his  calculations,  embracing  some  thirty  years'  labor. 

Luntz  (listening). —  He  is  not  only  a  worker,  he  is  a  genius. 

Pollock. —  Quite  true.  His  figures  and  calculations  are  living  and 
marching  like  soldiers. 

Luntz. —  With  you  everything  is  brought  down  to  a  discipline.  I  can't 
understand  your  codet  —  poesy 

Pollock. —  Without  discipline  —  there  is  no  victory,  my  dear  Luntz. 

Zhitoff.—  True! 

Luntz. —  I  can  appreciate  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  much  better  than  you 
can.  I  am  sure  he  sees  infinity  as  plain  as  we  see  our  walls,  yes! 

Pollock. —  I  have  no  objection  to  that.  By  the  way,  is  the  revolution 
ended  ?  Have  you  any  information  ? 

Zhitoff. —  How  can  you  get  any  information  ?  Don't  you  hear  what  is 
going  on  outside  ? 

Pollock. —  I  never  thought  of  the  weather. 

Petia. —  According  to  the  latest  reports 

Pollock. —  Never  mind  the  latest  reports,  you  just  tell  me  when  it  will 
all  end;  I  don't  care  to  go  into  details. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (entering}.  — No,  no  one  has  arrived.  I  wanted  to 
convince  myself. A  regular  desert. 

Pollock. —  You'll  be  so  kind,  dear  Inna  Alexandrovna,  as  to  send  the 
coffee  into  my  room. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Very  well,  very  well.  Go  on  with  your  work. 
Work  at  present  is  simply  a  blessing.  (Exit  Pollock.} 

Petia. —  But  I  think  there  are  moments  in  our  life  when  one  has  to 
sacrifice  his  work,  it  being  dishonorable  to  work 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Petia,  Petia! 

Petia. —  I  can  stand  it  no  longer!  Why  don't  you  let  me  go  there  ?  I 
shall  go  insane  here  —  in  this  hole! 


426  TO  THE  STARS 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But,  Petia  dear,  you  are  too  young.  You  are 
barely  eighteen  years  old. 

Petia. —  Nikolai  had  already  been  in  prison  at  the  age  of  nineteen. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  And  what  good  do  you  see  in  that  ? 

Petia. —  He  worked! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  mercy;  well,  speak  to  your  father  about  it; 
if  he  consents  —  very  well. 

Petia. —  He  told  me  to  go. 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  why  didn't  you  ? 

Petia. —  Oh,  I  don't  know,  can't  do  it.  There  is  such  a  great  struggle 
going  on  there,  but  I  —  I  can't  do  it!  (Exit.) 

Luntz. —  Petia  is  getting  nervous  again.  You  ought  to  take  good  care 
of  him.  (Follows  PETIA.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  what  can  I  do  with  him  ?  Oh,  merciful 
Father! 

Zhitoff. —  Nonsense,  it  will  blow  over. 

Inna  Alexandrovna.  He  is  so  delicate,  so  frail,  just  like  a  girl.  How 
can  he  go  ?  He  has  so  much  changed  lately!  And  here  is  this  Luntz, 
instead  of  calming  him  down,  he 

Zhitoff. — Oh,  well,  Luntz, — he  himself  looks  as  if  he  were  going  to  have 
a  fit  of  hysterics  some  of  these  days. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  see  it  myself.  Thank  the  Lord  that  you  are  at 
least  calm  and  peaceful, —  otherwise  there  would  be  but  one  place  for  me; 
rest  in  the  grave. 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  I  am  always  calm,  was  probably  born  that  way.  Would 
gladly  enjoy  an  occasional  'nervous  spell,'  but  it  won't  work. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  An  excellent  temperament. 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  I  don't  know,  rather  a  convenient  one.  What  a  pity  we 
didn't  get  the  papers.  I  enjoy  reading  about  the  excitement  of  other  people. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Did  you  know  that  Luntz  lost  his  parents 
some  four  years  ago  while  he  was  away  abroad  studying  ?  They  were 
killed  during  a  Jewish  massacre. 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  I  have  heard. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  He  never  talks  about  it  himself.  He  can't  bear 
it.  What  an  unfortunate  young  man;  it  breaks  my  heart  whenever  I  look 
at  him.  Knocking  again  ? 

Zhitoff.—  No. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Some  three  years  ago,  on  just  a  day  like  this, 
a  peddler  'dropped  in';  he  was  almost  frozen  to  death,  but  he  soon  revived 
and  at  once  commenced  doing  business. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  427 

Zhitoff. —  I  may  go  out  peddling  myself  to  Australia. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  how  can  you  ?  You  don't  understand  the 
English  language. 

Zhitoff. —  I  understand  a  little, —  picked  it  up  in  California. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Well,  I  think  I'll  read  the  papers  again.  Can't 
think  of  anything  else  to  do  at  present,  anyhow.  You  ought  to  read  some, 
too,  Vassily  Vassilievitch. 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  feel  like  it.     I'd  rather  sit  at  the  fireplace. 

(!NNA  ALEXANDROVNA  puts  on  her  glasses  and  looks  over  the  papers. 
ZHITOFF  moves  to  the  -fireplace.  POLLOCK  is  seen  working.  The  storm  is 
heard  raging,  the  bell  ringing.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  wonder  what  my  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  is 
doing  ?  I  haven't  seen  him  for  a  couple  of  days  already.  He  eats  and 
drinks  in  his  studio.  Doesn't  want  to  see  anybody. 

Zhitoff. —  Y-yes!     (A  pause.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (reading). —  What  dreadful  things!  What  is  a 
machine-gun,  Vassily  Vassilievitch  ? 

Zhitoff. —  It  is  a  kind  of  quick-firing  gun  (a  pause;  MINNA  is  seen  carry- 
ing coffee  to  POLLOCK). 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  should  like  to  use  that  peculiar  machine 
myself. 

Zhitoff. —  Y-yes.     It  is  a  dangerous  article  (a  pause). 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  How  it  is  storming!  It  is  impossible  to  read. 
Oh,  don't  go  to  Australia,  Vassily  Vassilievitch;  I  shall  certainly  miss  you 
very  much.  You  won't  go,  will  you  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Impossible.  I  am  of  a  restless  nature.  I  would  like  to  trot 
all  over  the  globe  and  see  what  the  earth  is  made  of.  From  Australia  I  may 
go  to  India.  I  should  like  to  see  some  tigers  in  a  wild  state. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  do  you  want  tigers  for  ? 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  know  myself.  I,  Inna  Alexandrovna,  like  to  see  and 
examine  things.  There  was  a  small  hill  in  the  village  where  I  was  born; 
I  used  to  mount  that  hill  when  I  was  a  little  boy  and  sit  there  for  hours 
watching  things.  I  even  took  up  astronomy  with  the  intention  of  seeing  and 
looking  at  things.  I  don't  care  much  for  calculations;  it  really  makes  no 
difference  whether  it  be  twenty  millions  or  thirty.  I  don't  like  to  talk 
much,  either. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  All  right.  I  won't  bother  you.  Keep  on 
looking. 

(A  pause.     The  storm  and  the  bell.} 

Zhitoff  (not  turning). —  Are  you  going  to  Canada  with  Sergius  Nik  - 
olaevitch  to  see  the  eclipse  ? 


428  TO  THE  STARS 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  to  Canada!  Why  certainly!  How  can  he 
go  without  me  ? 

Zhitoff. —  You  will  have  a  hard  journey.     It  is  rather  far  off. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Nonsense.  If  things  should  only  turn  out  here 
satisfactorily.  O  God!  It  is  awful  to  think  of  it.  (Silence.  The  storm. 
The  bell.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Vassily  Vassilievitch! 

Zhitoff.—  Ma'ame. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Did  you  hear  ? 

Zhitoff.—  No! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  must  have  been  mistaken  again  (a  pause). 
Vassily  Vassilievitch,  don't  you  hear  ? 

Zhitoff.—  What? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  A  shot,  I  think. 

Zhitoff. —  Who  is  going  to  fire  guns  here  ?     It  is  simply  an  hallucination. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  I  heard  it  so  distinctly.  (A  pause.  A  distant 
shot  is  heard.) 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  oh!  shooting,  indeed! 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (running  and  shouting). —  Minna,  Minna!  Frantz. 
(ZHITOFF  rises  slowly;  PETIA  and  LUNTZ  hurriedly  pass  through  the  room. 
Another  shot  not  far  off.) 

Petia. —  Well,  what  is  it  ? 

Luntz. —  Don't  know.     Come! 

(ZniTOFF  stands  at  the  window  listening.  POLLOCK  turns  around  his 
head,  looks  into  the  vacant  room  and  resumes  his  work  again.  Slamming 
of  the  door  and  barking  of  dogs  are  heard.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (entering). —  I  sent  out  the  men  with  Vulcan  [a  dog]; 
somebody  must  have  been  lost. 

Zhitoff.—  Yes,  but  the  bell  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  The  wind  blows  in  our  direction.  You  heard 
how  distinct  the  gunshots  were. 

Pollock. —  May  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  Not  yet.  Let  us  prepare 
something  hot  anyhow.  (Slamming  of  the  door.  A  murmuring  is  heard. 
Accompanied  by  all,  enter,  wrapped  up  and  covered  with  snow,  ANNA  and 
TREITCH  carrying  VERCHOVTZEFF.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (on  the  threshold). —  What  is  it,  Anna  ? 

Anna  (taking  off  her  shawl). —  Mamma,  hurry  up,  please;  get  ready 
something  hot.  We  are  nearly  dead.  I  am  afraid  Valentine  is  frostbitten. 
Quick.  (Falls  on  the  chair  fainting.) 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (hurrying  towards  VERCHOVTZEFF). —  Valentine, 
what's  the  matter  ? 


feet 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  429 

Verchovtzeff    (weakly). —  Don't  —  worry,   mother;    it's   a    trifle  —  my 


Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Who  is  this  gentleman  ? 

Treitch. —  A  friend. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (looking  around  terror  stricken). —  Where  is  Kolia 
[Nicholas]  ?  (A  pause.  PETIA  with  tears  in  his  eyes  throws  himself  on 
INNA  ALEXANDROVNA.) 

Petia. —  Mamma,  dearest  mamma!  Don't  be  frightened.  Nothing 
has  happened,  nothing! 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (pushing  him  off  gently;  rather  calmed). —  But 
where  is  he  ? 

Anna  (having  recovered  and  now  busying  herself  with  her  wounded 
husband). —  O  mamma,  there  is  nothing  serious.  He  is  in  prison. 

Luntz. —  What  does  it  mean  ?  Wait,  just  wait!  I  can't  understand  it; 
it  means  then  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  In  prison!     In  what  prison  ? 

Anna. —  My  God!  Can't  you  understand?  We  have  escaped  and 
that's  all!  We  have  come  here  for  shelter. 

Pollock. —  Is  the  revolution  ended  ? 
.  Luntz. —  I  can't  understand  it.     Is  it  possible  ? 

Treitch. —  Yes,  we  are  defeated  (a  pause). 

Anna. —  Mamma,  why  don't  you  see  to  it  that  we  get  something  stimu- 
lating. Have  you  any  hot  water,  brandy  ?  Have  you  some  wadding  in  the 
house  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  You  shall  have  everything  in  a  moment.  (Call- 
ing.) Minna!  (The  latter  appearing.)  In  prison! 

Zhitoff. —  Why  don't  you  let  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  know  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  shall  send  for  him  in  a  minute. 

Pollock. —  Pray  tell  us  how  it  all  happened  —  Mr.  —  Mr. 

Treitch. —  Treitch  is  my  name. 

Ferchovtzeff  (feebly). —  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Treitch  I  should  have 
perished.  Anna,  don't  be  so  busy.  I  am  feeling  excellent. 

Anna. —  I  fail  to  understand  how  we  ever  reached  the  place.  It  was 
something  awful!  We  have  been  struggling  in  the  mountains  ever  since 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning;  the  whole  day.  We  had  a  miraculous  escape 
on  the  frontier. 

Luntz. —  I  can't  believe 

Petia. —  Valentine,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?     Have  you  any  pain  ? 

Ferchovtzeff. —  My  feet  are  'peeled  off'  a  little  —  with  a  piece  of  shell  — 
also  my  head  —  Nonsense! 


430  TO  THE  STARS 

Ltintz. —  Have  they  been  using  shells  on  you  ? 

Perchovtxeff, —  The  bourgeois  —  defended  themselves  —  pretty  fair. 

Anna. —  Valentine,  you  mustn't  talk!  Oh,  what  a  horrible,  what  a 
ghastly  sight  it  was.  Shells  were  bursting  all  around,  killing  and  wounding 
thousands  of  people.  I  saw  myself  heaps  of  dead  at  the  town  hall. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (approaching). —  What  about  Nicholas  ?  Tell  me 
where  he  is  ? 

Anna. —  Actually  speaking,  no  one  knows  where  he  is. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  ?  didn't  you  say 

Petia. —  And  Marusia  is  absent  too!  You  are  concealing  something 
from  us.  And  didn't  you  say,  Luntz  ? 

Luntz. —  Petia,  Petia!     But  I  did  not  think  —  I  can't  believe  it 

Anna. —  But  there  is  no  necessity  to  conceal  things. 

Treitch. —  Calm  yourself,  Madame  Ternovsky.  I  am  sure  Nikolai 
is  alive. 

Anna. —  Treitch  will  tell  us  all  about  it.  He  fought  with  Nicholas 
side  by  side. 

Treitch. —  He  was  wounded  at  the  last  moment,  when  the  barricade 
was  almost  in  the  hands  of  the  soldiers.  He  stood  alongside  of  me  and  I 
saw  him  fall. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  My  God!  Dangerously  wounded?  Perhaps 
he  was  killed.  Oh,  speak! 

Treitch. —  I  don't  think  he  was  wounded  dangerously. 

Frantz. —  The  professor  told  me  to  tell  you  that  he'll  be  here  directly. 

Anna. —  Of  course,  what's  the  use  of  hurrying! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Please  go  on. 

Treitch. —  He  was  wounded  in  the  back,  either  with  a  bullet  or  a  piece 
of  shell.  At  first  he  was  conscious,  but  soon  fainted  away.  I  picked  him  up 
and  carried  him  to  a  little  street,  but  here  I  encountered  a  detachment  of 
dragoons;  seeing  that  my  resistance  would  be  useless,  and  that  it  would  only 
expose  Nikolai  to  their  bullets,  I  left  them  the  body  and  went  back  to  ours. 
He  is  probably  now  in  prison. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (crying). —  Kolushka,  Kolushka!  and  here  we 
didn't  know  anything  about  it.  Oh,  my  heart  was  telling  me  all  the  time  — 
you  don't  think  he  is  dangerously  wounded  ?  Tell  me,  do  you  ? 

Treitch. —  I  don't  think  so. 

Petia. —  How  about  Marusia  ?  You  don't  mention  her  at  all.  Is  she 
killed  ? 

Anna. —  Oh,  no!     Valentine,  do  you  want  some  water  with  brandy  ? 

Treitch. —  We  saw  her  many  times.  She  remained  there  in  order  to 
find  out  comrade  Nikolai's  whereabouts. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  431 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  Marusia  dear,  you  are  a  darling,  upon  my 
word.  That's  the  way  to  do,  that's  the  way  to  act.  Just  think  of  it.  That's 
a  girl  for  you!  Treitch,  don't  you  want  a  little  brandy?  Why,  you  look 
like  a  ghost.  Take  some,  my  dear,  I  would  fain  kiss  you,  but  I  know  you 
folk  don't  like  these  sentimentalities. 

Treitch. —  I  should  consider  it  a  great  honor  (kissing  each  other).     You. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  O  Marusia,  Marusia!  And  that  one,  too  — 
Minna!  (Exit.} 

Luntz  (almost  crazed). —  Then  all  was  in  vain  ? 

Pollock. —  It  looks  that  way. 

Luntz. —  In  vain  then  all  the  blood  shed,  all  the  thousands  of  useless 
sacrifices,  the  glorious  and  matchless  struggle,  the  —  the  —  oh,  curse! 
why  didn't  I  lay  down  my  head  together  with  my  fallen  brothers  ? 

Perchovtzejf. — Why,  you — expect  the — bourgeois — to  give  up  at  once 
—  his  hold  upon  the  earth  ?  The  bourgeois  -  -  is  not  so  foolish  —  you*!! 
have  a  chance  yet  to  die. 

Treitch. —  The  struggle  isn't  over  yet. 

Pollock. —  Are  you  a  workman,  Mr.  Treitch  ? 

Treitch. —  Yes,  sir.  By  the  way,  I  haven't  informed  Madame  Ternov- 
sky,  not  wishing  to  worry  her,  that  Nikolai  might  be  shot  to  death. 

Petia. —  Shot  to  death ! 

Treitch. —  Already  on  my  way  here  a  rumor  reached  my  ears  that  they 
are  executing  all  the  prisoners  without  even  a  trial.  They  don't  even  spare 
the  wounded. 

Petia  (shudders  and  covers  his  face  with  his  hands). —  What  a  horrible 
thing. 

Luntz. —  Beasts !  They  are  ever  thirsty  for  human  blood.  They  have 
their  belly  full  now. 

ferchovtzeff. —  Yes  —  they  never  were  —  vegetarians,  you  know. 

Luntz. —  How  can  you  jest  ? 

Anna. —  You  mustn't  talk,  Valia  [Valentine]. 

Verchovtzeff. —  It  is  these  skinned  feet  —  of  mine  —  that  make  me  — 
so  merry.  I'll  shut  up  now,  Anna,  I  am  tired.  I  am  very  —  anxious  to 
see  —  the  face  of  the  —  star-gazer. 

Treitch. —  Hush !  (!NNA  ALEXANDROVNA  enters').  They  are  quarreling 
and  we,  of  course,  cannot  dictate  terms  to  them. 

Zhitoff. —  Here  is  Sergius  Nikolaievitch.  (SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH 
appears  at  the  top  of  the  staircase  and  speaks  while  descending.) 

Sergius. —  What  is  the  matter  ?     Where  is  Nicholas  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. — Don't  be  alarmed,  papa;  he  is  in  prison,  wounded. 


432  TO  THE  STARS 

Sergius  (stopping  for  a  moment). —  Do  they  kill  each  other  yet  ?  Do 
they  still  have  prisons  ? 

yerchovtzeff  (maliciously). —  He  fell  —  down  —  from  heaven! 

ACT  II 

A  spring  morning  in  the  mountains;  the  sky  is  fair  and  clear;  the  sun  is 
shining  brightly.  In  the  center  —  a  courtyard  with  paved  walks.  Theyard 
is  uneven  and  slanting*  fenced  off  in  the  back  by  a  low  stone  wall  with  a  gate 
in  it. 

A  range  of  mountains  is  seen  at  a  distance,  but  not  higher  than  the  one 
upon  which  is  situated  the  observatory.  To  the  right,  a  corner  of  the  observa- 
tory structure,  tapering  off  into  a  high  tower.  To  the  left,  a  corner  of  the  house 
with  a  stone  porch. 

A  total  absence  of  vegetation.  From  the  time  of  the  first  act  three  weeks 
have  elapsed.  VERCHOVTZEFF  is  sitting  in  a  rolling-chair;  ANNA  is  wheeling 
him  to  and  fro.  ZHITOFF  is  sitting  near  the  wall,  warming  himself  in  the  sun. 
All  are  dressed  in  springlike  fashion,  save  ZHITOFF,  who  has  a  coat  on. 

Zhitoff  (sitting). —  Let  me  wheel  him  a  little,  Anna  Sergeievna. 

Anna. —  No,  keep  still.  I  don't  like  to  bother  anybody.  Are  you 
comfortable,  Valia  ? 

yerchovtzeff. —  Yes,  but  what  is  the  use  of  '  turning  about '  like  rats 
in  a  trap  ?  Place  me  alongside  of  Zhitoff:  I  also  want  to  derive  some  benefit 
from  the  sun.  That's  right;  thank  you! 

Anna.—  Why  are  you  not  working,  Zhitoff  ? 

Zhitoff. —  It  is  the  fault  of  the  weather;  as  soon  as  spring  comes  I  can't 
remain  in  the  house  to  save  my  soul.  I  warm  myself  and  warm  myself 
and 

Verchovtzeff. —  Aren't  you  a  Turk,  Zhitoff  ? 

Zhitoff. —  No,  sir. 

Verchovtzeff. —  But  it  would  certainly  become  you  to  sit  thus  and  med- 
itate —  as  they  do  in  Turkey.  < 

Zhitoff. —  No,  I  am  no  Turk. 

yerchovtzeff. —  I  understand  you;  it  is  so  nice  to  sit  in  the  sun.  What  a 
pity  Nicholas  can't  have  that  pleasure.  Oh,  I  know  that  Sternburg  prison; 
it  is  never  visited  by  a  ray  of  sunlight,  nor  can  one  see  the  sky.  I  have  spent 
in  that  prison  but  one  month,  but  when  I  came  out  I  looked  like  a  wet  sponge 
from  the  dampness.  Horrible! 

Anna. —  I  am  glad  that  he  is  at  least  alive.  I  thought  surely  he  had 
been  shot  to  death. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  433 

Verchovtzeft. —  Just  take  your  time;  they  are  not  through  with  him 
yet.  Let's  wake  Marusia,  I  am  anxious  to  find  out  what  has  taken  place 
there. 

Zhitoff. —  She  arrived  very  late  last  night. 

Verchovtzejf. —  I  heard  her.  She  woke  up  the  whole  house  with  her 
singing.  I  was  wondering  who  could  have  sung  in  that  mausoleum.  I 
thought  it  was  Pollock,  having  discovered  a  new  star. 

Zhitoff. —  Her  singing  must  be  taken  as  a  good  sign. 

Anna. —  I  can't  understand  how  any  one  can  allow  himself  to  sing 
when  others  are  asleep. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (appearing  on  the  veranda). —  Hasn't  Luntz  come 
back  yet  ? 

Anna. —  No. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But,  heavens!  what  can  that  mean?  Sergius 
Nikolaievitch  needs  him.  What  shall  I  say  to  him  ?  Scattered  like  sheep, — 
only  one,  Pollock,  is  working.  Marusia  dear  was  singing  last  night.  When 
I  heard  her  —  my  breath  almost  failed  me.  Well,  I  think 

Verchovtzeff. —  Suppose  you  wake  her  up,  mother. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  no.  Not  for  anything!  Let  her  sleep  all 
day. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Well,  wake  up  Schtoltz,  then. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  am  not  going  to  disturb  him,  either.  The  man 
is  tired,  has  brought  us  such  good  news,  and  it  would  be  a  sin  on  my  part 
to  bother  him.  You'd  better  send  me  in  Luntz  as  soon  as  he  shows  up 
(starts  to  go,  then  stops  at  the  door).  How  are  you,  Vassily  Vassilievitch  ? 
Warming  yourself  in  the  sun  ?  I  filled  the  box  this  morning  with  fresh 
earth  and  planted  some  radishes.  Let  them  grow, —  perhaps  somebody 
will  enjoy  them.  (Exit.} 

Verchovtzeff. —  What  an  energetic  old  woman.  She  even  thinks  of 
radishes  (a  pause). 

Anna. —  Are  you  thinking  of  anything  when  you  sit  and  look  that  way  ? 

Zhitoff. —  No.     What  is  the  use  of  thinking?     I  just  look  and  that's  all. 

Verchovtzeff. —  You  are  not  telling  the  truth,  how  can  one  help  thinking  ? 
If  you  are  not  thinking  —  then  you  must  be  recollecting  something. 

Zhitoff. —  I  have  no  recollections  whatsoever.  Oh,  yes,  I  once  had  a 
nice  time  in  New  York.  I  was  stopping  in  a  hotel  in  one  of  the  liveliest 
streets.  I  even  had  a  balcony. 

Verchovtzejf. —  Well,  what  of  it  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Well,  I  say  I  had  a  nice  time;  I  was  sitting  on  the  balcony, 
watching  the  people:  how  they  walk,  how  they  ride.  And  the  elevated 
railroad!  In  a  word,  very  interesting. 


434  TO  THE  STARS 

Anna. —  Have  the  Americans  a  high  degree  of  culture  ? 

Zhitoff. —  I  don't  mean  that.  It  is  simply  very  interesting  (a  pause}. 
Indeed,  where  is  Luntz  ? 

Anna. —  He  went  into  the  mountains  with  Treitch  last  night. 

Verchovtzeff. —  For  investigations. 

Zhitoff. —  What  investigations  ? 

Ferchovtzeff. —  Treitch  is  always  investigating  something.  He  has 
probably  already  explored  your  temple  of  Uranus  and  found  it  to  be  a  first- 
class  armory.  Now  he  is  investigating  the  mountains;  he  is  probably 
looking  for  a  place  to  establish  a  firearm  works. 

Anna. —  Treitch  is  a  dreamer. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Well,  not  altogether.  His  dreams  have  a  kind  of 
strangeness  about  them,  but  with  all  their  apparent  absurdity  they  somehow 
become  realized.  At  any  rate,  he  is  an  interesting  fellow.  Talks  little,  but 
is  a  most  excellent  propagandist.  He  can  inflame  the  moon  herself  —  to  use 
an  astronomical  expression.  Where  did  Nicholas  get  him  from  ? 

Petia  (entering). —  Good  morning. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Why  are  you  so  gloomy,  young  rooster  ? 

Petia. —  Don't  know. 

Anna. —  Are  you  aware  that  Nicholas  is  in  prison  ? 

Petia. —  Yes,  mamma  told  me. 

Anna. —  I  can't  understand  why  you  are  so  sour.  One  would  suppose 
that  you  are  full  of  vinegar.  I  hate  to  look  at  you. 

Petia. —  You  needn't  to. 

Zhitoff. —  Petia,  come,  let's  go  to  Australia. 

Petia.—  What  for'? 

Anna. —  You  are  asking  questions  just  like  a  child.  '  What  for  ? 
What  for  ?'  He  was  invited  yesterday  into  the  mountains,  but  the  first 
question  he  asked  was  'What  for  ? '  Well,  what  are  you  eating  for  ? 

Petia. —  I  don't  know.     Let  me  alone,  Anna! 

yerchovtzeff. —  I  can't  say  that  you  are  very  polite,  my  friend.  (Point- 
ing to  LUNTZ  and  TREITCH,  who  appear  covered  with  dust.}  Ah,  there  they 
are.  Luntz,  the  star-gazer,  is  looking  for  you.  Look  out,  you'll  get  it! 

Luntz. —  Oh,  to  the  —  with  him.     Pardon  me,  Anna  Sergevna. 

Anna. —  Never  mind.  I  am  not  a  very  exemplary  daughter,  and  am 
willing  to  share  your  wishes. 

Petia. —  How  vulgar. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Well,  Treitch,  have  you  had  a  nice  walk  ?  Have  you 
found  anything  ? 

Treitch. —  A  very  nice  place,  indeed. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  435 

Anna. —  And  do  you  know  that  Marusia  arrived  last  night  ? 
Treitch  (excitedly). —  You  don't  say  so.     How  is  Nicholas,  how  is  he  ? 
Verchovtzeff. —  Oh,  he  is  shot,  he  is  hanged;  he's  been  tortured  to  death. 
Anna. —  Oh,  don't  mind  him;  he  is  alive,  he  is  living  (near  the  window 
MARUSIA  is  heard  singing  and  playing). 

'  In  prison  dark  behind  iron  bars  there  sits  a  young  eagle  born  free.' 

Treitch. —  He  is  in  prison  ?     Saved  ? 

Marusia. — '  My  comrade  is  sad,  he  is  waving  his  wings,  his  bloody 
food  near  the  window  he  picks.' 

Verchovtzeff. —  *  He  is  picking  and  stopping  and  through  the  window  he 
looks,  as  though  trying  my  thought  to  catch;  with  his  voice  and  his  looks  he 
urges  me  on,  as  though  wanting  to  say  —  let  us  fly  away,  away! ' 

Marusia  (appearing  —  passionately). —  'Free  birds  are  we!  and  the 
time  has  come,  comrade,  to  fly  far  away  beyond  the  clouds  where  the  moun- 
tain peers  white;  away  where  we  can  behold  the  blue  sea,  away,  where,  alone, 
the  wind  and  I  rejoice  together.' 

Treitch. —  Marusia! 

Anna. —  What  an  out  of  place  concert! 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (following  MARUSIA,  wiping  her  eyes}. —  You  dear 
eaglets  of  mine! 

Verchovtzefj. —  You,  mother,  are  pronouncing  these  words  just  in  the 
same  manner  as  you  would  '  You  dear  chicks  of  mine.' 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Yes,  chicks,  if  you  please;  especially  you  who 
have  been  plucked  as  though  ready  for  the  soup. 

Marusia. —  Anna,  how  do  you  do  ?     (To  TREITCH.)     A  kiss  for  you. 

Treitch  (rapidly  covering  his  eyes  with  his  hand  and  immediately  re- 
moving it.} —  I  am  the  happiest  mortal. 

Marusia. —  Kisses  to  all,  to  all  —  and  you,  too,  invalid ! 

Verchovtzeff. —  Have  you  seen  him  ? 

Marusia. —  Let  us  fly  away! 

Luntz. —  That's  not  right.     We  are  all  anxious  to  know  — 

Marusia. —  Yes,  I  have  seen  him  and  all.  This  gentleman  here  is  Mr. 
Schtoltz;  allow  me  to  introduce  him  to  you.  He  is  a  wonderful  man.  At 
present  he  is  employed  in  some  bank,  but  in  time  he'll  be  of  great  service  to 
the  revolution.  He  looks  very  much  like  a  spy  and  has  therefore  rendered 
me  great  service.  Come,  Schtolz,  make  a  bow  to  them. 

Schtoltz. —  It  gives  me  great  pleasure.     Good  morning. 

Marusia. —  Petia,  dear  boy,  why  are  you  so  sad  ? 

Verchovtzefi. —  This,  Marusia,  speaking  modestly,  is  very  mean  of  you. 


436  TO  THE  STARS 

Marusia. —  Come,  come,  cripple,  don't  get  excited.  How  can  one  get 
angry  to-day  ?  Well,  he  is  in  the  Sternburg  prison. 

All. —  We  know,  we  know! 

Marusia. —  Further,  they  are  going  to  shoot  him. 
|H    Inna  Alexandrovna. —  God!     Whom,  Kolia  [Nicholas]? 

Marusia. —  Don't  worry,  mamma  dear.  It  will  never  come  to  that. 
I  am  the  Countess  Morritz,  don't  you  know,  of  *  awfully '  high  birth  ?  My 
patrimonial  estates,  of  course,  being  there  (raising  and  waving  her  hand  in 
the  air).  And  they  are  very  malicious,  but  awfully  stupid. 

Ferchovtzejf. —  Yes,  so  they  are. 

Marusia. —  The  most  difficult  thing  was  to  find  out  his  whereabouts. 
They  hide  the  names  of  the  prisoners  so  that  they  may  have  an  opportunity 
to  dispose  of  them  quietly  without  a  trial.  But  here  Schtoltz  gave  me  a  hand. 
Schtoltz,  bow  to  them. 

(Enter  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH.  He  has  an  old  overcoat  on  with  a 
small  fur  cap;  all  meet  him  cordially  but  coldly.} 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Papa,  listen  to  what  Marusia  is  telling  us;  they 
were  going  to  shoot  him. 

Marusia. —  No,  it  is  too  long  a  story  to  tell.  In  a  word:  I  have  threat- 
ened, I  have  pleaded,  pointed  out  to  them  European  public  opinion;  also  his 
father's  importance  in  the  scientific  world  —  and  at  last  the  execution  has 
been  postponed.  I  was  in  prison,  too. 

Perchovtzejf. —  Well,  how  is  he  ? 

Marusia  (confusedly). —  He  is  —  rather  sad,  but  that  will  pass  away. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  And  the  wound  ? 

Marusia. —  Oh,  that's  nonsense,  already  healing;  he  is  a  strong  fellow, — 
you  know.  But  the  cell  —  well, —  it  is  a  kind  of  dirty  hole,  for  which  it  is 
difficult  to  find  an  adequate  name. 

Verchovtzeff. —  I  know  it.     I  have  been  there  before. 

Marusia. —  And  I  have  raised  such  a  storm  that  they  had  to  promise 
me  to  transfer  him  to  a  better  room.  To  you,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  he  sends 
his  best  regards,  wishing  you  success  in  your  researches,  and  is  very  inter- 
ested to  know  how  things  are  in  general. 

Anna. —  To  be  in  such  a  position,  and  yet  to  think  of  trifles. 

Sergius  Nikolaievitch. —  Dear  boy!     I  am  ever  so  thankful  to  you. 

Anna. —  How  grateful! 

Luntz. —  How  about  yourself  ?     How  did  you  manage  to  escape  ? 

Marusia. —  I  did  not  escape;  the  soldiers  caught  me  that  same  day,  but 
I  cried  and  sobbed  so  much  about  my  sick  grandmother,  who  was  expecting 
me  from  the  store,  that  they  finally  let  me  go;  one  soldier,  however,  struck 
me  slightly  with  the  butt  of  his  gun. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  437 

Luntz. —  How  abominable! 

Marusia. —  And  I  had  under  my  dress  the  flag  —  our  flag. 

Perchovtzeff. —  Is  it  all  right  ? 

Marusia. —  I  have  pinned  it  with  English  pins,  but  it  is  so  heavy  I  have 
brought  it  here.  This  time  it  has  served  Schtoltz  as  a  kind  of  jacket.  If 
Schtoltz  were  only  not  so  small 

Verchovtzeff. —  Then  he  would  be  big.  Why  did  not  you  fetch  the  flag 
here?  I  should  like  to  look  at  it  —  our  flag!  Oh,  the  deuce! 

Marusia. —  No,  I  am  going  to  unfold  it  when  we  fight  another  battle. 
Treitch,  do  you  know  who  betrayed  us  ? 

Treitch.—  Yes. 

Schtoltz. —  Betrayers  and  traitors  ought  to  be  punished  by  death.  (MAR- 
USIA is  laughing.  TREITCH  is  smiling.} 

ferchovtzeff. —  How  bloodthirsty  you  are,  Mr.  Schtoltz. 

Schtoltz. —  One  can  kill  with  electricity,  then  there  will  be  no  blood. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  about  Kolushka  ? 

Marusia. —  Nicholas  ?  Well,  listen.  Is  there  no  one  here  ?  How 
about  your  servants  ?  Well,  all  right.  Listen  —  he  must  escape. 

Treitch. —  lam  going  with  you. 

Marusia. —  No,  Treitch.  Kolia  ordered  you  to  remain  here.  You 
know  how  you  are  being  searched  for. 

Treitch. —  That  doesn't  matter. 

Marusia. —  But  you  are  not  needed.  I  have  already  arranged  every- 
thing. As  for  you,  you'll  find  something  to  do  here,  on  the  frontier,  Treitch. 
All  we  want  is  money  —  and  plenty  of  it.  Nicholas  takes  with  him  a  soldier 
and  a  keeper.  Of  course  he'll  come  here  —  that's  understood.  I  must  be 
departing  to-day  —  we  can't  afford  to  lose  a  minute. 

ferchovtzeff. —  Bravo,  Marusia! 

Marusia. —  Dear  friend,  I  am  so  happy! 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (looking  at  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH). —  Money  ? 

Sergius  Nikolaievitch  (gazing  at  INNA  ALEXANDROVNA). —  Inna,  you  are 
the  cashier  —  have  we  any  money  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (embarrassed}. —  Only  those  three  thousand  - 

Marusia. —  But  five  are  needed. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  And  even  these (gazes  at  SERGIUS 

NIKOLAIEVITCH,  who  is  silently  nodding  his  head,  joyfully}. —  Well,  we  have 
three  thousand  roubles  already,  thank  God! 

Zhitoff  (confused}. —  We'll  make  a  collection.  I  have  three  hundred 
roubles  myself. 

Luntz. —  Pollock  is  a  rich  fellow;  very  rich. 


438  TO  THE  STARS 

Anna.  —  I  don't  feel  like  appealing  to  him;  he  is  so  peculiar. 

Perchovtzeff.  —  Nonsense.  Those  are  the  very  people  that  ought  to  be 
'  skinned.'  Petia,  go  and  fetch  Pollock.  Tell  him  very  important  business, 
otherwise  he  wouldn't  come. 

Marusia.  —  Well,  the  main  thing  is  done;  we  have  got  the  money! 
(Sings.)  '  With  his  voice  and  his  look  he  is  urging  me  on,  as  though  wishing 
to  say  let  us  fly  away.' 

Treitch,  I  want  to  speak  a  word  to  you.  How  dirty  you  are!  where  were 
you  ?  (Exit.) 

Luntz.  —  Oh,  what  a  girl!  she  is  a  sun.  She  is  a  whirlwind  of  igneous 
powers.  She  is  a  Judith! 

Anna.  —  Yes,  rather  too  much  fire.  A  revolution  is  not  in  need  of 
your  whirlwinds,  explosions,  —  a  revolution  is  a  profession,  if  you  please, 
requiring  lots  of  patience,  perseverance,  and  calmness. 

Luntz.  —  A  revolution  requires  talent. 

Anna.  —  It  may  be;  but  some  people  are  very  much  abusing  this  word 
'  talent,'  nowadays.  One  performing  tricks  on  a  rope  is  talented.  One 
gazing  all  his  life  at  the  stars 


>*  Perchovtzeff.  —  Yes,  and  how  are  the  affairs  in  heaven,  esteemed  Sergius 
Nikolaievitch  ? 

Sergius.  —  All  right.     And  how  are  the  affairs  on  earth  ? 

Perchovtoeff.  —  Very  bad,  as  you  see.  Things  are  always  nasty  on  this 
earth  of  ours,  esteemed  star-gazer.  There  is  always  somebody  here  who  is 
after  another  fellow's  throat.  One  is  crying,  another  betraying.  My  feet 
hurt  me.  Oh,  we  are  very  far  from  the  harmony  of  the  heavenly  spheres. 

Sergius.  —  We  don't  always  have  harmony;  there,  too,  catastrophes  are 
inevitable. 

Perchovtzeff.  —  Very  sad;  it  means  we  can  have  no  hope  for  heaven, 
either.  What  are  you  thinking  of  Mr.  —  Mr.  —  Schtoltz  ? 

Schtoltz.  —  I  am  thinking  that  every  man  should  be  strong. 

Perchovtzeff.  —  Well,  well;  are  you  strong  ? 

Schtoltz.  —  Unfortunately  nature  deprived  me  at  birth  of  certain  quali- 
ties that  go  to  make  up  strength.  For  example,  I  am  afraid  of  blood  - 

Perchovtzeff.  —  And  spiders  ?  By  the  way,  do  you  buy  your  clothes 
ready  made,  or  do  you  have  them  made  to  order  ? 

Pollock  (entering).  —  Good  morning,  gentlemen,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ? 

Verchovtzeff.  —  Listen,  Pollock;  we  need  two  thousand  roubles  —  it  is 
not  a  loan,  because  I  don't  believe  anybody  will  ever  pay  it  back  to  you  - 

Pollock.  —  May  I  ask  you  for  what  purpose  ? 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  439 

Ptrfhovfaeff. —  To  effect  Nikoli's  escap  efrom  prison.  Are  you  willing 
to  advance  ? 

Pollock. —  With  pleasure. 

Verchovtzeff. —  He 

Pollock. —  No,  no;  without  details,  please.  Esteemed  Sergius  Nik- 
olaievitch,  may  I  use  your  refractor  to-day  ? 

Sergius. —  Help  yourself.  I  have  a  holiday  to-day.  (POLLOCK  goes 
out  bowing.} 

Perchovtzeff. —  That's  a  learned  man  for  you.  Isn't  he,  Sergius 
Nikolaievitch  ? 

Sergius. —  He  is  a  very  capable  fellow. 

Anna. —  Of  what  use  is  astronomy  ? 

Verchovtzej. —  To  know  how  to  compose  almanacs,  I  suppose.  (MA- 
RUSIA  and  TREITCH  approaching.} 

Marusia. —  I  hope  you'll  do  it,  Treitch.  Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  they 
are  criticising  you.  Anna  hates  astronomy  as  much  as  though  that  science 
were  her  personal  enemy. 

Sergius. —  I  am  used  to  that,  Marusia. 

Anna. —  I  have  no  personal  enemies  —  you  know  that  very  well.  And 
the  reason  I  don't  like  astronomy  is  because  I  can't  understand  how  people 
can  devote  so  much  time  to  the  study  of  heaven,  when  this  earth  of  ours 
needs  so  much  attention. 

Zhitoff.--  Astronomy  is  the  triumph  of  reason. 

Anna. —  But  reason  in  my  opinion  would  be  more  triumphant  if  there 
were  less  hungry  people  on  this  earth. 

Marusia. —  Oh,  what  beautiful  mountains!  Look  at  the  beautiful 
sun.  How  can  you  argue,  how  can  you  quarrel  when  the  sun  is  shining  so 
magnificently!  You  are  evidently  against  science,  Anna  Sergeievna  ? 

Anna. —  Not  against  science  am  I,  but  against  the  scientists  who  use 
science  as  a  pretext  to  evade  public  duty. 

Schtoltz. —  A  man  must  say  *  I  will ';  duty  is  but  slavery. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  don't  like  these  'smart'  discussions.  What 
pleasure  is  there  in  arousing  each  other's  temper.  Vassily  Vassilievitch, — 
will  you  ever  get  up  ?  Here  (takes  him  aside] ;  don't  you  give  any  of  your 
money.  We  have  enough.  Pollock  is  a  generous  young  man  and  if  need 
be  —  (Laughs}.  But  he  looks  like  an  astrolabe  all  the  same. 

Zhitoj. —  How  about  your  Canadian  expedition  now  ?     No  money 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  we'll  get  some.  We  have  a  whole  year  yet. 
I  have  a  talent  for  getting  money.  They  will  probably  again  attack  my  old 
man, —  they  are  glad  he  is  silent, —  let  me  therefore  ask  you  as  a  friend, 
Vassily  Vassilievitch,  to  stand  up  for  him. 


440  TO  THE  STARS 

Zhitoff.—  I  will. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  must  go,  I  have  so  much  work  to  do.  Ko- 
lushka  needs  some  underwear.  (Exit.} 

Sergius  (continuing). —  I  am  fond  of  listening  to  good  conversation.  In 
every  speech  I  can  discern  sparkles  of  light, —  and  these  are  very  beautiful  — 
just  like  the  milky  way.  What  a  pity  that  people  for  the  most  part  talk 
nonsense. 

Anna. —  Very  often  eloquent  words  are  used  by  some  people  as  an 
argument  for  not  working. 

Pfrchovtxeff. —  What  a  peaceful  individual  you  are,  Sergius  Nikolaie- 
vitch.  I  wonder  if  you  ever  get  insulted.  Have  you  ever  cried  ?  I  don't 
mean,  of  course,  during  that  happy  age  when  you  were  running  around  in 
your  little  shirt, —  I  mean  at  the  present  time  ? 

Sergius. —  Oh,  yes,  I  am  very  emotional. 

Pfrchovfaefi. —  Indeed. 

Sergius. —  When  I  first  discerned  the  comet  Bela,  foretold  by  Galileo, — • 
I  cried. 

Perchovtzeff. —  A  worthy  cause  for  crying,  undoubtedly,  although 
beyond  my  comprehension.  What  is  your  opinion,  gentlemen  ? 

Luntz. —  Well,  certainly,  but  Galileo  could  have  made  a  mistake. 

Ferchovtzeff. —  Well,  in  that  case,  one  would  have  to  tear  out  his  hair 
in  despair,  I  suppose. 

Marusia. —  You  are  exaggerating,  Valentine. 

Anna. —  And  when  his  son  was  nearly  shot  he  remained  tranquil. 

Sergius. —  Every  second  some  human  being  perishes  in  the  world,  and 
probably  every  second  a  whole  world  is  destroyed  in  the  universe.  How, 
then,  can  one  cry  and  despair  over  the  loss  of  one  human  being  ? 

Perchovtzeff. —  Good !  Don't  you  think,  Schtoltz,  it  is  a  very  powerful 
argument  ?  So  then,  in  case  Nicholas  does  not  succeed  in  escaping  from 
prison  and  they 

Sergius. —  Of  course,  that  will  be  very  painful,  but 

Marusia. —  Please  don't  joke  that  way,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  it  hurts 
me  to  hear  such  jests. 

Sergius. —  But  I  wasn't  jesting.  I  was  never  able  to  crack  jokes, 
although  I  sometimes  enjoy  other's  joking,  Valentine's  for  example. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Thank  you. 

Zhitoff. —  It  is  true,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  never  jokes. 

Marusia. —  So  much  the  worse. 

Perchovtzeff. —  How  convenient  it  must  be  to  stop  one's  ears  with 
astronomical  cotton !  Everything  would  be  nice  and  quiet.  Let  the  whole 
world  howl  like  a  dog 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  441 

Luntz. —  When  young  Buddha  once  beheld  a  hungry  tigress  he  offered 
himself  to  her.  Yes.  He  did  not  say:  I  am  God,  I  am  occupied  with  very 
important  matters,  and  you  are  but  a  hungry  beast;  nay,  he  offered  himself 
to  her! 

Sergius. —  Do  you  see  the  inscription  (pointing  to  the  front  of  the 
Observatory.}  Haec  domus  Uraniae  est.  Curae  procul  esteprofanae.  Teneni- 
tur  hie  humilis  tellus!  Hinc  itur  ad  astral  That  means:  This  is  the  temple 
of  Uranus.  Away,  ye  earthly  cares !  Low  earth  is  being  trampled  upon  here. 
Hence  to  the  stars. 

ferchovtzeff. —  Very  well,  but  what  do  you  understand  by  earthly  cares, 
esteemed  star-gazer  ?  Here  I  am  with  injured  feet,  the  flesh  being  destroyed 
with  a  piece  of  shell  almost  to  the  bone;  is  this  in  your  opinion  also  an  earthly 
care  or  an  earthly  vanity  ? 

Anna. —  Of  course. 

Sergius. —  Yes,  death,  injustice,  misfortune, —  all  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  earth  are  but  earthly  cares. 

Verchovtzeff. —  If  a  new  Napoleon  should  appear  to-morrow,  a  new 
despot  who  was  to  crush  the  whole  world  with  his  iron  feet  —  would  that, 
too,  be  an  earthly  vanity  ? 

Sergius. —  I  think  so;  yes. 

ferchovtzeff. —  (Looks  around  inquiringly  and  utters  a  harsh  laugh). 
Oh,  that's  what  it  is! 

Anna. —  This  is  outrageous.  These  are  the  kinds  of  gods  who  don't 
care  how  much  people  suffer  so  long  as  they  themselves 

Marusia. —  Treitch.     Why  don't  you  make  some  reply  ? 

Treitch. —  I  am  listening. 

Ferchovtzeff. —  Only  those  can  entertain  such  ideas  who  receive  a  fat 
salary  from  the  government  and  perch  safely  on  their  roof. 

Sergius  (blushing). —  Not  always  safely,  Valentine.  Galileo  died  in 
prison.  Giordano  Bruno  perished  at  the  stake.  The  road  to  the  stars  has 
always  been  sprinkled  with  blood. 

Verchovtzeft. —  Oh,  that  doesn't  matter.  The  Christians  too  were  once 
persecuted,  but  that,  however,  did  not  stop  them  in  turn  from  '  frying'  some 
of  the  astronomers  alive. 

Anna. —  Papa  even  has  some  relics  which  he  keeps  under  lock. 

Sergius. —  Anna!  that  isn't  right. 

ferchovtzeff. —  What  nonsense  is  that  ? 

Anna. —  A  piece  of  brick  from  some  old  observatory  and  scraps  of 
some  original  manuscript. 

Marusia. —  Anna!  how  can  you  ?  Nicholas  would  never  allow  himself 
to  be  so  rude 


442  TO  THE  STARS 

Anna. —  Nicholas  is  too  kind  and  gentle;  that's  his  weakness.  (PETIA 
approaches  unobserved  and  silently  places  himself  by  the  wall.} 

Perchovtzejf  (irritably). —  Therefore  they  beat  us  at  every  step 

Marusia. —  Never  mind!  never  mind!     Treitch,  what  do  you  say  ? 

Treitch  (reservedly). —  We  must  go  forward.  Some  one  here  mentioned 
defeats,  but  I  fail  to  see  them.  I  only  know  of  victories.  The  earth  is  but  a 
piece  of  wax  in  man's  hands.  We  must  knead  it,  squeeze  it  —  create  new 
forms.  But  we  must  go  forward.  If  we  encounter  a  wall,  it  must  be 
destroyed.  If  we  encounter  a  mountain  it  must  be  removed.  Should  we 
encounter  an  abyss, —  we  must  fly  across  it.  If  we  have  no  wings  —  we 
must  make  them. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Good,  Treitch,  we  must  construct  wings! 

Marusia. —  Oh,  I  feel  as  though  I  had  wings  already. 

Treitch  (reservedly). —  We  must  go  forward.  If  the  earth  splits  under 
our  feet, —  we  must  fasten  her  together  with  irons.  If  she  begins  to  fall  to 
pieces,  we  must  solder  her  with  fire.  If  heaven  begins  to  press  on  our  heads, 
—  we  must  raise  our  arms  and  toss  it  off, —  thus!  (Tosses  it  off.  Others 
involuntarily  imitate  the  attitude  of  TREITCH,  that  of  Atlas  supporting 
the  world.}  But  we  must  go  forward  so  long  as  the  sun  is  shining. 

Luntz. —  But  the  sun  will  be  extinguished. 

Treitch. —  Then  we  must  kindle  a  new  one. 

ferchovtzeff. —  All  right;  go  on. 

Treitch. —  And  so  long  as  it  keeps  on  burning,  for  ever  and  everlast- 
ingly,—  we  must  go  forward.  Comrades,  the  sun  too  is  but  a  proletariat! 

Verchovtzeff. —  This  is  what  I  call  astronomy.     Oh,  the  deuce! 

Luntz. —  Forward,  forever  and  everlastingly. 

Perchovtzejf. —  Forward!  oh,  the  devil!  (All  form  themselves  into  groups 
in  their  excitement.) 

Luntz  (nervously) — Gentlemen,  I  beg  of  you  —  we  have  no  right  to 
abandon  the  cause.  And  the  killed!  No,  gentlemen,  not  only  those  who 
have  heroically  fought  and  perished  for  liberty,  but  the — victims.  There  are 
billions  of  them,  and  they  are  not  guilty.  And  they  were  killed.  (Silence.) 

Marusia  (crying  out). —  I  swear  before  thee, —  ye  mountains!  I  swear 
before  thee, —  ye  sun:  I  shall  set  free  Nicholas!  Have  these  mountains  an 
echo  ? 

Luntz. —  No.     If  they  had  they  would  say  '  Amen!' 

Anna  (to  ZHITOFF) —  How  sentimental.      I  can't  understand  Valentine. 

Zhitojf. —  That's  nothing.  You  know  I  have  postponed  my  trip  to 
Australia.  I  am  anxious  to  see  Nicholas  Sergievitch  myself. 

Marusia  (looking  up). —  Oh,  I  should  like  to  fly! 


;      LEONID  ANDREIEFF  443 

Ferchovtzeff. —  This  is  what  I  call  astronomy!  Well,  star-gazer,  do  you 
like  such  astronomers  ? 

Sergius. —  Yes ;  I  like  them.     His  name  is  Treitch,  if  I  am  not  mistaken  ? 

Perchovtofff. —  Yes,  he  is  as  much  Treitch  as  I  am  Bismarck.  The 
devil  himself  doesn't  know  his  real  name. 

Luntz  (running  from  one  group  to  another). —  I  am  so  happy.  I  am  so 
happy.  You  know,  my  parents, —  they  were  killed.  And  my  sister,  too. 
I  did  not  care  —  I  have  never  cared  to  talk  about  it.  Why  talk  ?  thought 
I.  Let  it  remain  deeply  buried  in  my  soul,  and  I  alone  know  it.  And 
now  —  Do  you  know  how  they  were  killed  ?  Treitch,  do  you  understand 
me  ?  I  never  cared. 

Petia  (to  ZHITOFF). —  What  is  the  use  of  all  that  ? 

Zhitoff. —  No,  it's  not  pleasant. 

Petia. —  What's  the  use,  when  all  will  perish, —  you  and  I  and  the 
mountains.  (All  remain  standing  in  groups,  except  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH, 
who  is  standing  alone.) 

Verchovtzejf  (to  MARUSIA,  joyfully). —  Treitch  deserves  to  hang. 
Capital  fellow!  Where  did  Nicholas  fish  him  out?  Well,  Marusia,  but 
he'll  escape,  won't  he  ? 

Marusia  (musing). —  I  am  afraid  of  another  thing 

Verchovtzeff. —  What  else  ? 

Marusia. —  No,  it  isn't  worth  while  talking  about  —  a  trifle. 

Verchovtzefi. —  But  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  are  you  meditating 
over  ? 

Marusia  (doesn't  reply;  then  suddenly  starts  to  laugh  and  sing). —  'Come, 
away  let  us  fly.' 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (looking  through  the  window). —  My  eaglets! 
dinner  is  ready. 

Ferchovtzeft.—  Chick  —  Chick  —  Chick! 

Marusia. —  We'll  drink  champagne!     Have  you  any,  mamma  dear? 

All. —  Yes,  yes,  champagne! 

Sergius. —  There   isn't   any   champagne,   but  we   have   cherry  wine. 
(Laughter;  exclamations.} 

Sergius  (taking  Marusia  aside}. —  Well,  Marusia,  I  am  going  to  leave 
you.  I  don't  care  to  be  in  your  way,  folks. 

Marusia. —  Oh,  no,  stay  with  us;  we  are  so  merry  to-day. 

Sergius. —  Yes;  I  was  going  to  take  a  little  holiday  off  for  your  sake; 
but  I  have  changed  my  mind. 

Marusia. —  Won't  you  dine  with  us  ? 

Luntz  (shouting}. —  Fetch  Pollock.  He  is  an  honorable  man,  and  a 
very  nice  fellow.  I  am  going  after  him. 


444  TO  THE  STARS 

Voices.—  Pollock!  Pollock! 

Sergius. —  I  am  not  going  to  stay. 

Marusia. —  I  am  very  sorry.  Inna  Alexandrovna  will  be  very  much 
disappointed. 

Sergius. —  Tell  her  I  am  busy.  Stop  in  to  see  me,  Marusia,  before  you 
leave.  (Leaves  without  being  noticed.} 

Marusia. —  Schtoltz,  where  are  you  ?  You  will  be  my  partner.  I  have 
to  talk  some  matters  over  with  you.  Doesn't  he  look  like  a  spy,  gentlemen  ? 

Anna. —  Marusia  is  getting  to  be  impolite. 

Marusia. —  You  know  I  was  once  going  to  stay  over  night  in  his  house 
but  he  flatly  refused  it,  saying,  '  I  am  living  with  a  respectable  German 
family,  and  have  promised  them  not  to  bring  in  women  nor  dogs.' 

Schtoltz. —  They  don't  want  anybody.  I  have  in  my  room  a  brand 
new  sofa,  and  what  do  you  think  they  do  ?  Almost  every  night  they  come 
to  find  out  if  there  is  anybody  lying  on  it.  Awful  people ! 

Verchovtzeff. —  Why  don't  you  leave  them  ?     What  the  devil! 

Schtoltz. —  Can't  do  it;  I  have  to  pay  them  in  advance. 

Anna. —  You  oughtn't  to  do  it. 

Schtoltz. —  Impossible.     They 

Luntz  (is  leading  POLLOCK  —  shouting). —  He  is  he!  I  could  hardly 
tear  him  away  from  the  refractor;  he  stuck  to  it  like  a  leach! 

Pollock. —  Gentlemen,  it  is  an  outrage!     I  have  some  work  to  finish 

Marusia. —  Dear  Pollock!  We  are  so  merry  to-day.  And  you  are 
such  a  dear  good  fellow,  and  are  so  much  liked  by  everybody. 

Pollock. —  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that,  but  I  can't  understand  why  you 
are  so  merry.  The  revolution  turned  out  to  be  a  failure. 

Verchovtzeff. —  But  we  have  a  new  scheme;  we 

Pollock  (ironically). —  Oh,  yes,  certainly,  I  believe  you,  I  believe  you. 

Marusia. —  Here  is  to  Astronomy  (drinking}.     Long  live  the  orbit! 

Pollock. —  I  am  very  sorry  I  can't  drink  any  alcoholic  beverages.  It 
makes  me  sick  at  the  stomach  and  gives  me  the  headache. 

Ferchovtzeff. —  The  best  drink  for  Pollock  would  be  machine  oil. 
Pollock,  will  you  drink  it  ? 

Marusia. —  No,  we  are  going  to  drink  cherry  wine,  good  wine,  too. 

Luntz. —  Come  along,  comrade,  you  are  a  good,  honest  fellow. 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (looking  out  through  the  window). — •  Why  don't  you 
get  a  move  on  you  ?  I  am  tired  calling  you. 

Marusia. —  Right  away.  Mamma,  dear,  right  away.  Pollock  refuses 
to  come.  Well,  gentlemen,  we  mustn't  be  so  solemn.  ZhitofF,  can  you 
sing?  g^  y 

'       '"  " 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  445 

Zhitoff. —  Not  much. 

Luntz. —  The  Marseillaise! 

Marusia. —  No,  no;  the  Marseillaise  and  the  flag  must  be  reserved  for 
the  new  battle. 

Treitch. —  I  second  the  motion.  There  are  certain  songs  that  should 
only  be  sung  in  a  temple. 

Perchovtxeff. —  Oh,  do  sing  something  cheerful.  Oh,  how  the  sun  is 
warming  up. 

Anna. —  Valentine,  don't  uncover  your  feet. 

Marusia  (singing). —  'The  sky  is  so  clear,  the  sun  is  so  dear, —  the 
sun  is  inviting'  (all  join  in,  save  Petia). 

'When  we  work  with  pleasure,  we  no  more  think  of  care, —  forward, 
comrades. 

'  Glory  to  the  Merry  Sun! 
For  he  is  the  worker  of  the  Earth. 
Glory  to  the  Merry  Sun! 
For  he  is  the  worker  of  the  Earth!  ' 

Verchovtzeff. —  Move  on,  Anna.  You  are  wheeling  me  as  though  I 
were  dead. 

All  singing.     (POLLOCK  leads  the  chorus  seriously  and  reservedly.) 

'  Storms  and  tempests  the  serene  sky  cannot  vanquish; 
Beneath  the  cover  of  the  tempest,  within  its  dark  heart, 
Lightning  is  flashing! 
Glory  to  the  mighty  sun, 
The  ruler  of  the  Earth ! ' 

(The  last  words  of  the  song  are  repeated  behind  the  corner  of  the  house' 
PETIA  remains  alone  and  is  gloomily  looking  about  him.) 
All. —  (Behind  the  curtain.) 

'Glory  to  the  Mighty  Sun, 

The  ruler  of  the  Earth! ' 

» 

ACT  III 

A  large,  dark  sitting-room,  scantily  furnished;  absence  of  soft  furniture; 
two  book  cases.  A  piano;  in  the  back  wall,  a  door  and  two  large  windows 
leading  to  the  porch.  The  door  and  the  windows  are  open,  through  which  is 
visible  the  dark,  almost  black  sky,  studded  with  unusually  bright  glimmering 
stars;  on  a  table  in  the  corner,  near  the  wall, —  a  lamp  with  a  dark  shade. 


446  TO  THE  STARS 

INNA  ALEXANDROVNA  is  sitting  at  the  table  reading  the  papers,  ANNA  is 
sewing;  LUNTZ  nervously  paces  the  room;  VERCHOVTZEFF  on  crutches  is 
standing  at  one  of  the  bookcases  trying  to  get  a  book  out;  deep  silence ;  the 
silence  keeps  up  for  a  few  moments  after  the  curtain  rises, 

Verchovtzeff  (muttering  to  himself). —  Oh,  the  deuce! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Are  you  aware  that  the  President  has  refused  to 
pardon  Kassowsky  ? 

Verchovtzeff. —  Yes. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  What  does  that  mean  ? 

Verchovtzeff. —  Death! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  merciful  God!  How  long  will  these  things 
last  ?  Haven't  there  been  enough  victims  already  ? 

Verchovtzeff  (carrying  a  book  under  the  arm;  drops  it). —  Oh,  the  deuce 
with  you !  Anna,  pick  it  up ! 

Anna  (rising  slowly). — Right  away.  (LuNTZ  picks  up  the  book  silently, 
puts  it  on  the  table  and  keeps  on  pacing.) 

Verchovtzeff  (sitting  down  awkwardly). —  Will  you  ever  cease  pricking 
at  that  ? 

Anna. —  Well,  one  must  be  doing  something. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Can't  you  read  ?  (ANNA  makes  no  reply.  Silence.) 
No,  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  What  a  devilish  silence  there  is  here  — 
like  a  grave!  Another  week  like  this  and  I  shall  throw  myself  overboard, 
get  drunk,  or  lick  Pollock. 

Luntz  (nervously). — An  awful  silence.  As  though  Byron's  dream  had 
been  realized :  the  sun  is  extinguished,  everything  on  earth  is  dead,  and  we 
are  the  last  creatures. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Zhitoff,  what  are  you  doing  up  there  ? 

Zhitoff  (from  the  porch). —  I  am  looking. 

Verchovtzeff  (with  contempt). —  I  am  looking!      (Silence)  I  can't  be  idle! 

Anna. —  Be  patient,  it  can't  be  helped. 

Verchovtzeff. —  You  can  have  all  the  patience  you  want,  but  I  —  the 
deuce  (reading). 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (is  sitting  meditating). —  Serge  would  have  been 
twenty-one  years  old  now.  He  was  a  pretty  child,  looked  like  Nicholas. 
Do  you  remember  him,  Anna  ? 

Anna. —  No. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  I  remember  him  well.  You  used  to  beat 
him,  Anna.  You  were  a  mischievous  little  girl.  Death  certainly  snatched 
him  away  suddenly;  he  was  only  sick  about  three  days.  Appendicitis  in 
such  a  little  child!  When  they  started  to  cut  his  abdomen  open,  will  you 
believe  me,  Josiph  Abramovitch 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  447 

Verchovtzeff. —  Mother,  will  you  ever  stop  that  ?  The  idea  of  spending 
a  whole  evening  discussing  dead  people!  He  is  gone  —  well,  let  him  go; 
so  much  the  better  for  him!  Come  over  here,  Zhitoff. 

Zhitoff. —  Right  away. 

Luntz. —  What  anguish! 

Perchavtxtff. —  What  is  Marusia  writing,  Inna  Alexandrovna  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (sighing). —  A  whole  lot,  but  I  can't  make  anything 
out  of  it.  First  she  promises  to  come  in  about  a  week,  then  something  keeps 
her  back,  then  again  in  about  a  week.  Yesterday's  letter  is  the  same. 

Verchovtzeff. —  I  know  that;  thought  perhaps  you  had  something  new. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  am  afraid  Kolushka  is  not  well. 

Verchovtzeff. —  What  next  ?     Why,  don't  you  think  he  is  dead  ? 

Luntz. —  Then  Marusia  would  steal  his  corpse  and  bring  it  here. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  what  dreadful  things  you  are  saying! 

Zhitoff  (entering). —  Well,  what  do  you  want  me  to  say  ? 

Verchovtzeff. —  Take  a  seat.     What  have  you  been  doing  there  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Gazed  at  the  stars.  How  beautiful  and  restless  they  look 
to-day.  (PETIA  entering;  he  is  seen  passing  through  the  scene  several  times 
during  the  act.) 

Luntz. — Somehow  I  can't  bear  the  stars  to-night;  I  don't  know  where  to 
run  away  from  them.  I  would  hide  myself  in  a  cellar,  but  they'll  haunt  me 
there,  too.  Do  you  understand  —  I  feel  as  though  there  were  no  empty 
space;  as  though  all  these  monsters,  the  living  and  dead,  have  crowded  above 
the  earth,  and  are  pushing  towards  her,  and  there  is  something  in  them  —  I 
don't  know  —  (paces  nervously,  continuing  gesticulating). 

Zhitoff. —  The  atmosphere  here  is  very  clear,  but  in  California 

Verchovtzeff. —  Have  you  been  in  California  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Yes.  At  the  Lick  Observatory,  in  California,  one  feels  a 
little  shaky, —  looking.  Indeed! 

Petia. —  Mamma,  who  is  the  old  woman  in  the  kitchen  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. — Which  one  ?  Oh,  that  one.  She  just  came  in 
and  I  told  them  to  take  care  of  her.  She  belongs  down  below, —  in  the 
valley.  I  reckon  she  is  a  beggar.  Can't  understand  her,  she  is  deaf. 

Petia. —  How  did  she  ascend  the  mountain  ?     How  could  she  do  it  ? 

Ferchovtzeff. —  Mother,  you  ought  to  establish  a  poorhouse  up  here. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Well,  I  may  do  it  yet,  if  only  Sergius  Nikolaie- 
vitch  gives  his  consent.  You  ought  to  read. 

Petia  (insistingly). —  But  how  did  she  get  up  here,  mamma  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  I  don't  know,  dear.  You  should  read  what 
Marusia  is  writing  about  the  hungry  little  ones.  '  Mamma  dear,  give  us  a 


448  TO  THE  STARS 

piece  of  bread,'  they  would  cry.  Mamma  goes  out  to  hunt  for  some  bread  — 
how  she  gets  it  is  not  worth  while  telling  —  but  when  she  got  back  the  poor 
child  was  dead. 

Petia. —  Let  them  die.     Joseph,  you  seem  very  sad  to-day. 

Luntz. —  Yes,  Petia,  I  am  feeling  bad.  Oh,  it  is  such  a  strange  night; 
can't  understand  what  is  the  matter  with  it.  A  night  full  of  visions.  Have 
you  looked  at  the  stars  to-night  ? 

Petia. — And  I,  on  the  contrary,  feel  perfectly  happy!  (Plays  some  gay 
tune  on  the  piano.) 

Perchovtzeff  (to  Petia). —  Stop  that! 

Petia  (singing  and  playing). —  I  am  so  merry! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Petia  dear,  stop  it,  please. 

(PfiTlA  noisily  closes  the  piano  and  rushes  out  on  the  porch.} 

Luntz. —  Will  Treitch  soon  return  ? 

Perchovtzejf. —  They  did  not  succeed;  therefore  he  may  come  at  any 
time.  Zhitoff,  why  are  you  so  silent  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Don't  know;  don't  feel  like  talking  to-day. 

Luntz. — Oh,  I  have  such  unpleasant  thoughts!  such  unpleasant  thoughts! 
One  feels  like  committing  suicide! 

Verchovtzeff. —  Nonsense.     Astronomers  never  commit  suicide. 

Luntz. —  I  am  a  poor  astronomer,  very,  very  poor,  indeed. 

Anna. —  So  much  the  better;  then  you  may  occupy  yourself  with  some- 
thing more  useful. 

Luntz. —  I  fear  the  stars  to-night.  I  sit  and  think;  how  huge  and  in- 
different they  are,  and  they  don't  seem  to  care  a  bit  for  us, —  and  I  feel  so 
small,  so  insignificant  —  just  like  a  chick  that  hid  himself  in  a  corner  during 
the  Jewish  massacre;  there  it  sits,  not  understanding  what  is  going  on 
(PETIA  entering}. 

Verchovtzejf. —  The  stars  —  and  the  Jewish  massacre  —  what  a  peculiar 
combination! 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (warningly  motioning  her  head  to  ferchovtzeff). — 
We  have  all  undergone  a  severe  nervous  strain  lately  —  and  it  is  no  won- 
der you  are  moody.  Just  think  of  it;  already  a  month  and  a  half  have 
passed  since  Marusia  went  —  an'd  no  result  whatsoever.  I  am  beginning 
to  'shake'  myself,  although  I  am  used  to  all  kinds  of  weather 

Luntz. — The  feathers  are  spreading  all  around,  the  window  panes  are 
crackling,  but  he  remains  sitting,  and  what  is  he  thinking  about  ? 

Verchovtzejf. —  He  is  thinking  of  nothing.     He  thinks  it  is  snowing. 

Luntz. —  I  fear  infinity.  What  endless  space.  Why  infinity  ?  Here 
I  am  looking  at  the  stars;  one,  ten,  a  million  —  there  is  no  end.  My  God! 
To  whom  shall  I  complain  ? 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  449 

yerchovtzeff. —  Why  complain  ? 

Luntz. —  Here  I  am  a  little  Jew.  (Paces  the  room,  nervously  gesticu- 
lating.) 

Pollock  (entering). —  Good  morning,  gentlemen!  May  I  join  your 
company  ?  Hope  I  am  not  intruding 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Why  certainly!  make  yourself  comfortable. 

Pollock. —  The  magnetic  arrow  is  oscillating  very  much,  Luntz.  We 
must  make  some  observation  of  the  sun  to-morrow  [LuNTZ  is  muttering 
something].  You,  Zhitoff,  have  probably  given  up  the  idea  of  working 
altogether,  so  there  is  no  use  in  talking  to  you  about  it.  Are  you  going  to 
leave  us  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  in  a  couple  of  days. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  you  don't  mean  that  ?  Didn't  you  say, 
Vassily  Vassilievitch,  that  you  were  going  to  wait  until  Nicholas  got  back  ? 
And  why  have  you  changed  your  mind  so  suddenly  ? 

Zhitoff. —  Oh,  I  must  go.     Have  been  hanging  around  here  too  long! 

yerchovtzeff. —  The  place  will  get  more  lonesome  after  you  go.  Why 
don't  you  send  your  Zealand  to  the  devil  ? 

Zhitoff. —  No,  I  must  go. 

Anna. —  How  is  it  that  you  are  not  working,  Mr.  Pollock  ? 

Pollock. —  I  am  in  a  dreamy  mood  to-day,  esteemed  Anna  Sergeievna. 
I  am  just  thirty-two  years  old  to-day  —  this  very  minute.  I  was  born  in  the 
evening,  10.37  P-  M.  Making  some  allowance  for  time  (looks  at  his  watch) 
I  get  exactly  10. 16  —  ten  hours  sixteen  minutes. 

Ferchovtzeff. —  Congratulate  you! 

Pollock. —  At  my  age  of  thirty-two  I  think  I  have  done  a  great  deal  for 
science;  have  also  a  name.  However,  I  don't  care  to  go  into  details.  In  a 
word,  I  already  have  a  right  to  think  of  myself. 

Verchovtzeff. —  What  ?  are  you  really  going  to  get  married  ?  That's 
the  boy! 

Pollack. —  Yes,  you  are  right.     I'll  soon  be  married. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  That's  right;  you  are  doing  the  right  thing, 
dear  boy.  I  only  hope  you'll  get  a  good  wife. 

Pollock. —  My  bride  is  graduating  from  the  university  this  year,  and 
pretty  soon,  esteemed  Inna  Alexandrovna,  your  comfortable  house  is  going 
to  miss  me. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  How  secretive!  The  rascal  never  dropped  a 
word! 

Petia  (harshly). —  I'll  soon  be  married,  too.  I  have  already  a  bride  — 
she  is  a  beauty! 


450  TO  THE  STARS 

Pollock. —  Indeed  ?     You  are  joking  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Petia!  (PETIA  giggles  and  goes  out  on  the 
porch}. 

Anna. —  What  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  I  can't  understand  his  conduct 
lately. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  it  myself.  He  has 
changed  ever  since  you  arrived  here.  Josiph  Abramovitch,  you  are  always 
with  him.  Can  you  tell  us  what  is  the  matter  with  him  ?  I  am  really 
getting  anxious  about  him. 

Luntz. —  Petia, —  why  he  is  a  good  boy,  he  is  an  honest  boy.  He,  too, 
is  haunted  by  some  disagreeable  thoughts. 

Pollock. —  Go  on,  gentlemen,  don't  you  see  I  am  in  a  peculiar  mood 
to-day  and  will  gladly  listen  to  your  discussions  ? 

Luntz  (muttering). —  The  stars,  the  stars! 

Pollock. —  What  can  you  tell  us  about  the  stars,  dear  Luntz  ? 

Luntz. — Then  too  they  were  shining  way  above  the  clouds;  while  we 
were  sitting,  waiting  and  thinking  that  ours  have  gained  a  complete  victory, — 
and  they  are  shining  now.  One  is  likely  to  go  mad. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Work!  we  must  work;  and  here  in  this  devilish  hole  one 
is  chained  like  a  dog.  The  deuce!  (Limps  about  the  room,  making  for  the 
window,  looks  through  the  window  for  a  few  minutes  and  goes  back.}  I  think 
Treitch  is  coming. 

Pollock. —  I  like  Treitch  very  much.  He  seems  to  be  a  very  nice 
gentleman. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  That  means  failure  again! 

Verchovtzeff  (roughly). —  What  else  did  you  expect  ?  Didn't  they  write 
you  it  wasn't  a  success  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. — Oh,  merciful  Father!  Kolushka,dear!  Kolushka, 
my  own!  I  don't  think  I'll  ever  see  you  again.  .  .  .  My  heart  tells  me 
that  .  .  .  (weeping). 

Treitch  (entering,  greeting  all  and  seating  himself). —  Good  evening, 
folks. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  You  are  probably  tired,  my  dear  boy;  are  you 
hungry  ? 

Treitch. —  No,  thank  you.     I  had  some  lunch  on  my  way  here. 

Verchovtzeff. —  Anything  new  ? 

Treitch. —  Numerous  arrests.  You  of  course  all  know  that.  Zanko 
was  hanged. 

All. —  Is  that  possible  ?    Zanko  ?    No.     When  was  that  ? 

Verchovtzejf. —  Poor  fellow!     How  is  he  ?   .    .    . 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  451 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  He  was  so  young!  .  .  .  Wasn't  he  here  with 
Kolushka  last  year  ?  Dark  complexioned  with  small  mustaches. 

Anna. —  Yes,  he  was. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  He  kissed  my  hand.  .  .  .  He  was  so  young. 
Has  he  a  mother  ? 

Anna. —  Oh,  mamma! —  Do  you  know,  Treitch,  if  he  disclosed  any  of 
the  secrets  ? 

Treitch. —  He  met  his  fate  like  a  hero,  but  they  acted  disgracefully 
mean  towards  him.  He  asked  them  to  give  his  lawyer  permission  to  be 
present  at  the  execution.  They  granted  the  request,  but  never  kept  their 
promise.  And  all  he  saw  at  the  last  were  the  face  of  the  hangman  and  a 
few  stars  .  .  .  (silence}. 

Luntz. —  Stars!     Stars! 

Treitch. —  In  Ternach  the  soldiers  killed  some  two  hundred  workmen, 
also  many  women  and  children.  In  the  Sternburg  district  famine  is  raging. 
There  is  a  rumor  abroad  that  some  have  eaten  human  corpses. 

Verchovtzeff. —  You  are  the  black  messenger,  Treitch. 

Treitch. —  In  Poland  Jewish  massacres  have  broken  out. 

Luntz. —  What,  again  ? 

Pollock. —  What  barbarism!  what  foolish  people! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  it  may  only  be  a  rumor.  A  good  many 
stories  are  circulating  

Verchovtzejf. —  But  what  about  ours  ? 

Treitch  (shrugging  his  shoulders}. —  Well,  I  am  going  there  to-morrow. 

Anna. —  They'll  hang  you,  too.  That's  what  you'll  get.  We  must 
wait. 

Verchovtzefi. —  I  am  going  with  you!     The  deuce  take  it  all. 

Anna. —  But  how  can  you  go  with  these  feet  of  yours  ?  Bethink 
yourself,  Valentine;  you  are  not  a  child. 

Ferchovtzefi. —  Oh! 

Treitch. —  How  are  your  feet,  anyhow  ? 

Anna. —  Bad! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Anything  concerning  Kolushka  ? 

Treitch. —  No  one  showed  up  at  the  appointed  hour  and  of  course  I 
understood  that  the  affair  had  been  posponed.  I  don't  know  what  to  make 
of  it  myself.  I  am  going  there  to-morrow. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. — May  God  help  you,  my  dear  boy.  Let  me  bless 
you  as  I  would  my  own  son.  (TREITCH  kisses  her  hand.} 

Pollock  (to  ZHITOFF). —  Just  think  of  it,  a  common  workman  and  how 
well  bred.  I  am  certainly  surprised. 


452  TO  THE  STARS 

Zhitoff  —  Y-yes. 

Pollock. —  And  what  I  like  about  him  is  the  way  he  relates  things;  he 
is  so  clear  and  concise. 

Luntz  (shouting). —  Have  you  heard  ? 

Anna. —  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  What  are  you  screaming  about  ? 
You  scared  me. 

Luntz. —  Again!  Again  they  are  killing  fathers  and  mothers;  again 
they  are  tearing  children  to  pieces.  Oh,  I  felt  it  ...  I  knew  it  to-day, 
when  I  looked  at  the  cursed  stars ! 

Pollock.- —  Dear  Luntz,  calm  yourself. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Why  did  you  say  that,  Treitch  ? 

Treitch. —  Oh,  that's  nothing. 

Luntz. —  I  don't  want  to  be  calm,  and  I  am  not  going  to  be!  I  have 
been  calm  long  enough.  I  was  quiet  when  they  killed  my  father,  my  mother, 
and  my  sister!  I  was  quiet  when  they  were  slaughtering  my  brothers  at  the 
barricades!  Oh,  I  have  been  quiet  too  long.  But  I  am  quiet  now,  too. 
Am  I  not,  Treitch  ?  —  Everything  then  is  in  vain  ? 

Treitch. —  No,  we  are  going  to  win. 

Luntz. —  Treitch,  I  loved  science.  Pollock,  I  loved  science.  When  I 
was  small,  so  small  that  all  the  boys  on  the  street  abused  me  — then  already 
I  loved  science.  When  they  were  beating  me  I  used  to  think,  Never  mind, 
when  I  grow  up  I  shall  become  a  famous  scientist  and  will  be  a  credit  to  my 
family.  My  dear  father,  who  spent  the  last  farthing  on  me,  my  dear  mother, 
who  wept  over  me  — Oh,  how  I  loved  science! 

Pollock. —  I  am  very  sorry  for  you,  Luntz.     I  esteem  you  very  much. 

Luntz. —  When  hungry,  when  thirsty,  when  running  around  in  the 
street  like  a  dog,  hunting  for  a  crust, —  I  was  thinking  of  science.  And 
when  I  was  bitterly  crying,  tearing  my  hair  from  my  head,  after  they  had 
killed  my  father,  my  mother,  and  my  sister, —  I  was  thinking  of  science! 
But  now  (whispering)  I  hate  science  (shouts}.  No  more  science!  Down 
with  science! 

Pollock. —  Luntz,  Luntz!     I  am  very  sorry 

Anna. —  Why  don't  you  try  to  control  yourself?  You  can't  go  on  in 
that  way.  You  are  getting  hysterical. 

Luntz. —  Aha!  Hysterics!  Well,  what  of  it?  But  I  am  quiet,  and 
you  only  imagine  that  I  am  not  quiet.  I  don't  care  for  science  any  more. 
I  am  going  to  quit  this  place.  I  am  going  to  quit  it.  Do  you  hear  ? 

Treitch. —  Come  with  me. 

Luntz. —  Yes,  I'll  go  with  you.  I  don't  want  any  more  science.  Cursed 
stars.  Again,  again!  I  can  hear  them  shout  up  there!  you  don't  hear  that, 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  453 

but  I  do!  And  I  can  also  see  all  those  that  were  burnt,  that  were  mur- 
dered, that  were  torn  to  pieces.  Murdered  —  because  they  gave  birth  to  a 
Christ,  to  the  prophets,  and  to  a  Mary.  I  see  them.  They  gaze  at  me 
through  the  window — these  cold,  mutilated  corpses;  they  are  standing 
above  my  head  while  I  am  asleep  and  they  ask  me,  '  Are  you  going  to 
follow  science,  Luntz  ?'  No!  No! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  My  dear  boy,  may  God  help  you! 

Luntz. —  Yes,  God.  I  am  a  Jew  and  therefore  I  appeal  to  the  God  of 
the  Jews;  God  of  Vengeance,  Lord  God  of  Vengeance,  reveal  yourself! 
Rise,  O  Judge  of  the  Earth,  and  render  vengeance  to  the  proud  and  the 
wicked.  God  of  Vengeance!  Lord  God  of  Vengeance !  Reveal  yourself ! 

Verchovtzeff. —  Vengeance  to  the  hangmen! 

(LuNTZ  shakes  his  -fist  silently  and  departs.} 

Treitch. —  What  do  you  think  of  him  ? 

Pollock. —  What  an  unfortunate  young  man.  It  is  so  painful  when  one 
likes  science  and  is  unable  to  follow  it.  I  was  so  happy,  but  when  he  began 
to  talk  on  this  subject  I  couldn't  keep  from  crying,  esteemed  Inna  Alexan- 
drovna. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Don't  talk  about  it.  My  heart  is  breaking. 
Will  this  misery  ever  end  ?  I  don't  think  I'll  ever  see  a  bright  day  in  all  my 
life.  What  life! 

Zhitoff. —  Painful,  indeed. 

(TREITCH  takes  VERCHOVTZEFF  aside  and  cautiously  pointing  to  INNA 
ALEXANDROVNA  whispers  something  to  him;  VERCHOVTZEFF  draws  his  head 
back  and  utters  loudly). 

Verchovtzeff. —  I  don't  believe  it.     Nicholas! 

Treitch. —  t-ss  (whispering). 

Pollock. —  Let  us  have  hope  in  God,  esteemed  Inna  Alexandrovna. 
Not  the  God,  however,  of  Vengeance,  whom  the  unfortunate  Luntz  has 
mentioned,  but  the  God  of  Love  and  Mercy. 

Zhitoff. —  Yes,  there  are  different  gods  and  they  are  used  for  different 
purposes. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Oh,  children!  A  great  misfortune  has  befallen 
us!  (SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH  enters,  greeting). 

Sergius. —  You  are  here,  too,  Pollock  ? 

Pollock. —  To-day  is  my  birthday,  esteemed  Sergius  Nikolaievitch. 

Sergius. —  I  congratulate  you  (shakes  his  hand]. 

Pollock. —  I  have  also  had  the  honor  to-day  to  inform  my  friends  of  my 
engagement  to  Miss  Fanny  Herstrem. 

Sergius. —  I  didn't  know  you  were  such  a  lucky  fellow. 


454  TO  THE  STARS 

Pollock. —  I  am  going  to  have  a  companion,  now,  esteemed  Sergius 
Nikolaievitch  (laughs). 

Sergius. —  Once  more  let  me  congratulate  you.  By  the  way,  is  there 
anything  new  concerning  Nicholas  ? 

Pollock. —  It  appears  that  the  escape  has  been  postponed. 

Perchovtzeff. —  If  you  only  knew  what  was  going  on  upon  the  earth, 
esteemed  star-gazer! 

Sergius. —  Well  ?     Again  some  misfortune  ? 

Perchovtzeff. —  Yes  —  Earthly  vanity.  (Bends  his  head  on  one  side.} 
When  I  look  at  you  thus,  I  can't  help  asking  you:  Have  you  any  friends,  or 
are  you  alone  in  this  world  ? 

Sergius  (pointing  to  INNA  ALEXANDROVNA). — -There  is  my  friend. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Don't  make  me  blush,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  — 
you  know  you  need  a  different  friend. 

Perchovtzeff. —  That's  all  right.     Who  else  ? 

Sergius. —  I  have  others,  too,  but,  just  imagine!  I  have  never  seen 
them.  One  lives  in  South  Africa,  he  has  an  observatory;  another  —  in 
Brazil;  and  a  third  —  I  don't  know  where. 

ferchovtzeff. —  Why  ?     Did  he  vanish  ? 

Sergius. —  He  died  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  I  have  still  another 
one,  but  this  one  I  don't  know  at  all,  although  I  like  him  very  much.  He 
isn't  born  yet.  He  will  be  born  approximately  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
years  hence,  and  I  have  already  authorized  him  to  examine  some  of  my 
observations. 

ferchovtzeff. —  And  are  you  sure  he'll  do  it  ? 

Sergius. —  Yes. 

Perchovtzeff. —  What  a  strange  collection.  You  ought  to  donate  it  to 
some  museum !  Don't  you  think  so,  Treitch  ? 

Treitch. —  I  like  Mr.  Ternovsky's  friends. 

(PfiTiA  enters  hurriedly,  looks  around.) 

Petia. —  Where  is  Luntz  ?     Are  all  here  ?     Good !     Where  is  Luntz  ? 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  He  must  be  in  his  room,  Petia;  go  in  and  enter- 
tain him;  he  is  so  nervous  and  excited  to-day. 

Petia. —  Gentlemen,  kindly  remain  where  you  are;  I  am  going  to  arrange 
some  little  entertainment;  it  is  not  out  of  place  to-day. 

Pollock. —  Probably  fireworks  ?  Eh  ?  Oh,  you  shrewd  boy!  But  it  is 
rather  out  of  place  even  to-day. 

Petia. —  I'll  be  back  directly  (exit  PETIA). 

Sergius  (pacing  slowly). —  How  is  the  barometer  to-day,  Pollock  ? 

Pollock. —  Very  low,  esteemed  Sergius  Nikolaievitch. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  455 

Sergius. —  Yes,  one  feels  it. 

Pollock. —  Judging  from  the  oscillation  of  the  arrow  there  must  be  a 
cyclone  in  southern  latitudes. 

Sergius. —  Yes.     It  is  not  quiet. 

Anna  (to  INNA  ALEXANDROVNA). —  Petia  must  be  up  to  some  mischief 
again,  mamma,  you  ought  not  to  encourage  these  things. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  But  what  can  I  do  with  him  ?  You  see  yourself 
that  he 

Verchovtzeff  (going  with  TREITCH  to  the  table). —  Oh,  how  devilish 
quiet  it  is  here  —  like  the  grave. 

Sergius. —  You  think  so  ?     It  seems  to  me  it  is  rather  noisy  down  here. 

Treitch  (to  VERCHOVTZEFF). —  Remember  if  I  don't  return,  you'll  tell 
her  that 

Verchovtzeff. —  I  understand.     Oh,  how  close  it  is! 

Anna. —  And  I  think  it  is  rather  cool. 

Verchovtzejf. —  Close,  cool  —  the  same  devil.  If  I  am  to  stay  here 
another  week 

Pollock. —  Gentlemen,  let  us  select  for  our  discussion  some  topic  in 
which  all  could  participate.  Our  chairman  is  going  to  be 

Luntz  (entering). —  Who  was  calling  me  ?     You,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  ? 

Sergius. —  No. 

Luntz. —  Why  did  Petia  tell  me  so,  then  ?     (Starts  to  go  out.} 

Pollock. —  Remain  here,  dear  Luntz.  Now,  since  you  have  calmed 
yourself  down  a  little,  let  me  tell  you  that  I  don't  agree  with  your  views  con- 
cerning science. 

Luntz. —  Oh,  let  me  alone!     Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  let  me  tell  you  tha 
I  am  going  to  quit  the  observatory  (PETIA'S  voice  is  heard  outside  the  room: 
"  Pages  fling  the  door  widely  open  for  the  duchess!  ") 

Pollock  (laughing). —  Oh,  that's  Petia.  What  a  mischievous  boy! 
Listen,  Listen! 

(The  door  is  flung  open;  PETIA  enters  with  the  old  woman.  She  is  almost 
doubled  up  and  can  hardly  walk. — 'An  awful  spectacle  of  poverty,  old  age,  and 
wretchedness.  PETIA,  arm  in  arm  with  her,  steps  forward  solemnly.  At  the 
door  stand  MINNA,  FRANTZ,  and  other  servants,  smiling.} 

Petia. —  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  my  pretty  bride. 
Helen. 

ferchovtzeff  (laughing  roughly). — WTiat  a  fool! 

Anna. —  Didn't  I  tell  you  ? 

Pollock  (getting  up}. —  This  is  an  insult!  I  will  not  allow  him  to  insult 
my  bride! 

Petia  (loud). —  Pretty  Helen,  bow  to  the  audience  (the  old  woman 
makes  a  bow}. 


456  TO  THE  STARS 

Pollock. —  I  protest!     It  is  an  insult. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  He  is  only  joking.  Petia  dear,  you  must  not 
poke  fun  at  old  people;  it  is  not  nice. 

Luntz. —  Oh,  no,  it  isn't  a  joke!    I  understand!    Oh,  oh,  I  understand! 

Petia. —  There.  Now,  let's  have  a  talk,  pretty  Helen.  How  old  are 
you  ?  (The  old  woman  does  not  reply,  only  shakes  her  head.}  Did  you  say 
seventeen  ?  You  are  seventeen  years  old,  pretty  maiden.  Do  your  parents 
—  the  Duke  and  the  Duchess  consent  to  your  marriage  ?  (The  old  woman 
does  not  reply  —  only  shakes  her  head}. 

Pollock. —  Esteemed  Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  I  am  being  insulted  in 
your  own  house 

Luntz  (almost  crazed). —  What  do  you  want?  Who  cares  for  your 
idiotic  bride  ? 

Pollock. —  Mr.  Luntz,  I'll  hold  you  responsible  for  these  words! 

Luntz. —  The  stars,  the  stars! 

Petia. —  How  happy  am  I,  pretty  Helen !  Can  you  smell  the  odor  of 
roses  ?  Do  you  hear  the  music  of  the  nightingale  in  the  garden  ?  He  is 
eulogizing  our  love,  pretty  Helen. 

Luntz. —  Cursed  stars. 

Petia. —  Your  fragrant  little  mouth,  pretty  Helen 

Luntz. —  Yes,  yes! 

Petia. —  Your  pearly  teeth 

Luntz. —  Yes,  yes ! 

Petia. —  Your  dainty  face  —  I  am  desperately  in  love  with  you,  pretty 
Helen!  Why  have  you  cast  down  your  enchanted  eyes  so  modestly  ? 

Luntz. —  Shame!     And    aren't  you  ashamed   of  yourself,  Pollock? 
Science!     And  do  you  see  that  ?    That's  my  mother,  that's  my  mother! 

Pollock. —  I  don't  understand. 

Petia. —  Raise  your  beautiful  head  and  proudly  proclaim  yourself  my 
bride,  enchanting  Helen.  In  your  embrace,  my  restless  soul  will  find 
everlasting  peace !  (The  old  woman's  head  is  shaking.) 

Anna. —  They  are  all  fit  for  an  insane  asylum. 

Ferchovtzeff  (frightened). —  Anna,  keep  still! 

Pollock. — •  This  is  a  kind  of 

Luntz. —  Hold  your  tongue,  bourgeois!  —  or  I'll  —  She  is  my  mother. 
(to  the  old  woman).  Old  woman!  (pushes  away  PETIA).  Listen  to  me. 
Here  I  am  on  my  knees  before  you.  You  are  my  mother,  and  let  me  —  let 
me  kiss  your  hand 

Petia  (shouting). —  She  is  my  bride! 

Luntz. —  She  is  my  mother!     Let  her  alone! 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  457 

Anna. —  Water! 

Luntz. —  Old  woman!     Forgive   me!     I   loved  science,   foolish   Jew! 

Verchovtzefi  (to  TREITCH). —  Something  must  be  done! 

Treitch. —  Never  mind. 

Luntz. —  I  love  only  you  now,  dear  old  woman.  Take  my  head  and 
my  heart.  Oh,  cursed  stars!  Damned  stars! 

Treitch. —  Are  you  going  with  me,  Luntz  ? 

Petia  (shouting). —  She  is  my  bride. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Merciful  God !     Petia  dear!     He  is  fainting. 

Anna. —  Water! 

Luntz. —  I  am  going  with  you.     And  I  swear  by  God 

Verchovtzefi. —  Will  you  ever  shut  up  ? 

(PETIA  is  writhing  with  convulsions.  Ally  save  TREITCH,  rush  up  to 
him.  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH  makes  a  few  steps  but  stops  and  looks  at 
Luntz.) 

Luntz  (on  his  knees). —  Old  woman,  you  see!  I  am  crying,  old  woman; 
I  am  a  little  Jew  who  loved  science.  You  are  my  mother,  and  I  swear  by 
God  to  devote  all  my  time  to  you,  my  dear  old  woman,  I  am  crying  — 
cursed  stars! 


ACT  IV 

On  the  right  the  observatory  [dome,  the  larger  part  of  which  is  visible 
from  the  stage;  the  dome  is  surrounded  by  a  gallery  with  an  iron  railing;  the 
lower  part  of  the  stage  —  some  portion  of  a  roof  joined  to  the  main  structure  of 
the  observatory,  and  a  faint  view  of  the  mountains;  the  rest  —  a  vast  portion 
of  the  night  sky;  constellations;  inside  the  dome  —  complete  darkness;  to  the 
left  are  faintly  visible  the  outlines  of  a  huge  refracting  telescope;  two  tables  upon 
which  stand  two  lamps  with  dark,  non-transparent  globes. 

The  shutter  of  the  dome  is  o.pen,  through  which  is  visible  the  starry  sky; 
a  staircase  leading  to  the  dome;  silence;  the  monotonous  tick  of  the  metronome. 
SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH,  POLLOCK,  and  PETIA. 

Pollock. —  And  so,  esteemed  Sergius  Nikolaievitch,  you'll  kindly  watch 
the  camera.  I  must  go  and  finish  my  tables. 

Sergius. —  Go  on,  keep  on  working.     Good  by. 

Pollock  (addressing  PETIA). —  Well,  how  are  we  feeling  to-day,  young 
priest  of  the  Goddess  Uranus  ? 

Petia. —  All  right,  thanks. 

Pollock. —  And  we  are  not  going  to  poke  any  more  fun  at  poor  Pollock 
for  being  anxious  to  get  married  ? 


458  TO  THE  STARS 

Petia. —  Upon  my  word,  I  didn't  wish 

Pollock. —  I  understand,  I  understand 

Sergius. —  He  was  already  indisposed  then 

Pollock. —  I  am  only  joking,  esteemed  Sergius  Nikolaievitch.  Strangely 
enough,  I  have  discovered  a  great  deal  of  humor  in  myself  lately.  When 
Frantz  spilled  some  milk  the  other  day  I  said  to  him,  '  Frantz,  you  are 
leaving  behind  you  a  milky  way,'  and  he  laughed  very  much  (laughing). 
But  I  don't  care  to  go  into  details.  Good  by.  (Exit.} 

Petia. —  What  a  funny  fellow  Pollock  is.  Papa,  shall  I  disturb  you  if 
I  remain  up  here  ? 

Sergius.  —  No,  my  boy. 

Petia. —  I  don't  feel  like  going  downstairs.  It  is  so  lonesome  down 
there  now.  You  know  we  have  received  a  telegram  from  Zhitoff;  it  came 
from  Cairo.  He  wrote:  '  I  am  sitting  gazing  at  the  pyramids.'  Have 
you  ever  seen  the  pyramids  ? 

Sergius. —  I  am  afraid  mamma  will  miss  you,  Petia. 

Petia. —  She  is  sleeping  now.  But  I  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  with  her 
throughout  the  day.  She  worries  a  great  deal  about  Nicholas,  papa. 

Sergius. —  But  nothing  is  known  yet.     Has  Anna  written  anything  ? 

Petia. —  No.  She  does  not  like  to  write  letters.  Of  course  nothing  is 
known  yet,  and  I  keep  on  telling  that  to  mother,  but  you  know  how  difficult 
it  is  to  argue  with  women  —  I  don't  want  to  disturb  you.  Are  you,  too, 
going  to  do  some  calculations  now  ? 

Sergius. —  Yes,  some.     I  am  rather  tired. 

Petia. —  And  I  am  going  to  read  awhile.  By  the  way,  papa,  I  was 
reading  in  some  journal  yesterday  that  you  have  made  some  very  important 
discovery  in  relation  to  the  nebulae,  and  that  that  places  you  on  a  level 
with 

Sergius. —  The  discovery,  my  boy,  was  made  by  me  some  ten  years 
ago.  Astronomical  fame  comes  rather  late.  Very  few  are  interested  in 
astronomy  and  astronomers. 

Petia. —  And  I  did  not  know  it! 

Sergius. —  We  still  remain  isolated,  like  the  Egyptian  priests,  although 
against  our  will. 

Petia. —  How  foolish!  Papa,  why  did  you  order  me  brought  up  here 
when  I  was  ill  ?  I  certainly  must  have  disturbed  you  ? 

Sergius. —  No.  But  if  anything  becomes  precious  to  me  — I  always 
like  to  lift  it  up  here.  I  have  a  very  funny  notion,  Petia :  I  think  that  here, 
among  the  stars,  there  can  be  no  suffering,  no  disease. 

Petia. —  Once,  one  night  I  woke  up  and  saw  you  looking  at  the  stars. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  459 

Silence  reigned  all  around  and  you  were  looking  at  the  stars.  And  then  I 
comprehended  something  —  nay,  I  felt  it.  I  don't  know  what,  I  am  unable 
to  explain.  I  felt  as  though  we  were  alone  in  this  world:  you,  the  stars,  and 
I,  as  if  we  were  already  dead.  But  I  did  not  have  any  apprehension;  on  the 
contrary,  I  felt  good,  tranquil,  and  pure.  I  have  such  a  desire  to  live  now  — 
but  why!  I  don't  understand  the  meaning  of  life,  old  age,  and  death  any 
more  than  I  did  before.  However,  go  on  with  your  work,  papa;  I  am  not 
going  into  details,  as  Pollock  would  put  it. 

Sergius. —  Yes,  man  thinks  only  of  his  life  and  his  death  —  hence  he  is 
so  apprehensive  toward  life,  and  weary  and  lonesome, —  like  a  lost  flea  in  a 
vault.  In  order  to  fill  out  this  awful  emptiness  he  invents  much  that  is 
beautiful  and  is  powerful,  but  in  his  creations  he  only  thinks  of  his  death  and 
of  his  life.  And  he  resembles  a  keeper  of  a  museum  of  wax  figures, —  yes, 
a  keeper  of  a  museum  of  wax  figures.  During  the  day  he  chats  with  his 
visitors  and  collects  money  from  them,  and  when  night  comes  he  wanders 
lonely,  full  of  fright,  amid  death,  among  the  soulless  and  the  lifeless.  If  he 
only  knew  that  life  is  everywhere! 

Petia. —  Do  you  know  what  frightened  me  once  ?  Why,  only  a  simple 
chair.  I  saw  once  a  chair  in  an  empty  room,  and  suddenly  I  got  so  fright- 
ened that  I  screamed! 

Sergius. —  Man's  thought  is  an  eagle  —  the  mighty  and  powerful  king 
of  space,  but  he  has  tied  its  wings  and  put  it  in  a  poultry  yard  with  wire  and 
shamelessly  lying  walls.  And  the  sky  peeping  through  the  wire  netting  is 
only  teasing  and  irritating  it,  and  it  quarrels  with  the  other  birds,  thus  getting 
dull  and  stupid,  instead  of  soaring  to  the  skies. 

Petia. —  Poor  bird ! 

Sergius. —  Yes,  all  is  endowed  with  life.  And  when  man  comprehends 
that, —  he'll  grow  to  be  happy  like  the  Greek,  like  the  heathen.  Once  more 
the  nymphs  will  appear  upon  the  earth,  again  will  the  elves  dance  in  the 
moonlight.  Man  will  walk  through  the  woods  conversing  with  the  trees, 
with  the  flowers.  He  will  never  be  alone,  for  all  is  endowed  with  life; 
metals,  the  stones,  the  trees. 

Petia  (laughing). —  You  are  very  funny,  papa! 

Sergius. —  But  why  ? 

Petia. —  You  are  so  polite  with  the  chairs,  yes,  it's  true;  and  you  are 
polite  with  all  objects.  When  you  take  some  object  into  your  hand  —  you 
do  it  so  carefully, — I  don't  know  how  to  explain  myself.  You  are  very  absent 
minded,  but  you  walk  so  cleverly  that  you  never  stumble  over  things;  you 
never  run  into  or  drop  anything.  When  the  chairs,  the  cupboard,  and  the 
tumblers  gather  together  in  the  night,  as  in  Andersen's  fairy  tale,  to  have 
a  talk  with  each  other  —  they  probably  praise  you  very  much. 


460  TO  THE  STARS 

Sergius. —  You  think  so  ?     Then  I  am  very  glad  the  chairs  do  talk. 

Petia. —  And  here  when  you  leave,  what  takes  place  ?  Most  likely 
everything  sings. 

Sergius. —  Everything  sings  in  my  presence,  too. 

Petia. —  The  chimney  in  a  basso  voice  ?     Yes  ? 

Sergius. —  Do  you  know,  my  boy,  that  the  stars  sing  ? 

Petia. —  No. 

Sergius. —  Yes,  they  sing,  and  their  melody  is  as  mysterious  as  eternity 
itself.  Whosoever  has  but  once  heard  that  melody,  issuing  from  the  depth 
of  unfathomed  regions,  becomes  the  son  of  eternity!  The  son  of  eternity! 
—  yes,  Petia,  thus  will  man  be  called  in  the  future. 

Petia  (laughing). —  Papa  dear,  don't  get  angry;  do  you  mean  to  say 
that  Pollock,  too,  is  the  son  of  eternity  ? 

Sergius. —  Maybe. 

Petia. —  But  he  is  such  a  fool,  so  narrow  minded.  No,  no!  I  won't 
say  anything  else.  I  am  going  to  sit  down.  There  is  a  peculiar  air  in  here. 
The  air  of  our  rooms  is  different.  You  are  still  meditating,  papa  ? 

Sergius. —  Yes,  my  boy. 

Petia. —  Well,  go  on  meditating.  And  I  am  reading  (silence}.  To-day 
it  is  exactly  three  weeks  since  Luntz  left  us. 

Sergius. —  Is  it  ? 

(Silence;  PETIA  is  reading.  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH  awakens  from 
his  revery  and  starts  working.} 

Petia. —  During  the  first  nights,  while  I  was  having  that  fever,  I  used  to 
fear  the  refractor  very  much.  It  would  move  along  the  circle  tracing  some 
star.  Once  when  I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  at  it,  it  appeared  to  me  like 
a  huge,  dark  eye  —  with  a  long  coat  on 

(Silence.  SERGIUS  NIKOLAIEVITCH  stops  working  and  supporting  his 
chin  on  his  hand  is  musing  again.  Down  below  a  few  plaintive  strains  of 
music  are  heard: '  I  am  sitting  behind  iron  walls  in  the  prison  dark.') 

Petia  (leaping  up). —  What  is  that  music  ?  Who  can  it  be  ?  There  is 
no  one  down  there  but  mamma. 

Sergius  (turning  around). —  Yes,  maybe  it  is  Marusia. 

Petia  (shouting}. —  Marusia  has  come!  I'll  be  back  in  a  minute! 
(Runs  down.} 

(PETIA  and  MARUSIA  appear  on  the  staircase  leading  to  the  dome.} 

Marusia. —  Stop  crying.  What  is  the  use  ?  You'd  better  go  to  mamma 
(PETIA  is  weeping,  restraining  himself  from  sobbing).  Go,  Petia,  go!  She 
is  alone.  You  must  comfort  her  —  you  are  a  man ! 

Petia. —  And  you  ? 

Marusia. —  Never  mind.  Go!  (Kisses  him  on  the  head.  They  go  off 
in  different  directions.) 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  461 

Sergius. —  Marusia  dear,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  again.  You  don't 
believe —  I  know  —  that  I  can  feel  too.  I  have  been  thinking  of  your 
coming  all  day  to-day. 

Marusia. —  How  do  you  do,  Sergius  Nikolaievitch  ?     Are  you  working  ? 

Sergius. —  How  is  Nicholas  ?     Has  he  escaped  from  prison  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes.     He  has  left  the  prison. 

Sergius. —  Is  he  here  ? 

Marusia. —  No. 

Sergius. —  But  he  is  out  of  danger,  Marusia! 

Marusia. —  Yes. 

Sergius.  —  Poor  Marusia!  You  are  probably  so  tired.  I  have  been 
thinking  of  you  all  day  long  —  of  you  and  of  him  —  I  don't  dare  to  talk 
about  you  — you  are  like  music.  Marusia!  I  am  so  glad!  Allow  me  to 
kiss  your  hands  —  your  gentle  and  delicate  hands  that  had  to  handle  so 
many  iron  locks  and  rusty  gratings  (kisses  her  hands  ceremoniously). 

Marusia  (pointing  to  the  gallery  of  the  dome). —  Let's  go  there. 

Sergius. —  I  am  so  glad  —  I'll  fetch  a  chair  for  you — you  are  so 
tired,  Marusia  (both  go  out  on  the  gallery).  There,  sit  down.  Isn't  it  nice 
out  here  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes,  very  nice,  indeed ! 

Sergius. —  I  have  been  sitting  here  with  Petia ;  he  is  such  a  nice  boy. 
He  is  reminding  me  of  Nicholas  lately 

Marusia. —  Yes. 

Sergius. —  Petia  is  so  feminine,  so  frail,  and  I  am  very  anxious  about 
him  at  times.  But  Nicholas  —  he  is  so  daring  and  full  of  energy!  How 
harmonious  and  well  shaped  everything  is  in  him;  how  tender  and  how 
strong!  He  is  an  excellent  specimen  of  manliness,  a  rare  beautiful  form 
which  nature  shatters,  in  order  not  to  have  any  repetitions. 

Marusia. —  Yes,  shatters.     I  was  going  to  say 

Sergius.—  He  is  as  captivating  as  a  young  god,  he  has  a  charm  which  no 
one  can  withstand.  He  is  beloved  by  everybody,  Marusia  —  even  by  Anna 
—  even  by  Anna.  And  he  is  ^o  handsome.  It  may  seem  ridiculous  to  you, 
Marusia;  he  reminds  me  of  the  starry  heaven  —  the  starry  heaven  at  dawn. 

Marusia. —  Yes,  the  starry  heaven  at  dawn. 

Sergius. —  He  couldn't  help  escaping.  Of  that  I  was  quite  sure. 
Prison!  What  is  a  prison  —  these  rusty  locks  and  stupid  rotten  gratings! 
I  wonder  how  they  could  have  kept  him  thus  long.  They  should  have 
smiled  and  cleared  the  way  for  him  —  as  to  a  young  happy  prince! 

(MARUSIA  falls  on  her  knees  in  despair.} 

Marusia. —  Oh,  father,  father,  how  terrible! 

Sergius. —  What!  what's  happened,  Marusia  ? 


462  TO  THE  STARS 

Marusia. —  Shattered  is  the  beautiful  form!  Shattered  is  the  beautiful 
form,  father! 

Sergius. —  Is  he  dead  ?     Oh,  why  don't  you  speak  ? 
Marusia. —  He  —  his   reason   has   left  him.     (Silence.     Leaping  up.} 
What  is  it  ?     Cursed  life !     Where  is  the  God  of  that  life  ?     Whither  is  he 
looking  ?     Cursed  life.     It's  better  to  exhaust  oneself  with  tears,  to  die,  to 
depart!     What's  the  use  of  living  when  the  best  perish  ?     When  the  beau- 
tiful form  is  shattered !     Do  you  understand  it,  father  ?     Life  isn't  worth 
living,  it  isn't  worth  while  living. 
Sergius. —  Tell  me  all  about  it. 

Marusia. —  What  for  ?  Do  you  think  it  possible  to  tell  that  ?  To  be 
able  to  tell  it  —  one  must  comprehend  it.  And  do  you  think  one  can 
comprehend  it  ? 

Sergius. —  Go  on. 

Marusia. —  He  has  been  my  banner.     When  the  barbarians  threw  him 
into  prison  —  I  thought:     You  are  but  barbarians  —  but  he  is  the  sun.     I 
thought :     Pretty  soon  all  that  are  like  him  will  rise  and  shatter  the  prison 
walls,  and  my  sun  will  shine  once  more!  my  sun! 
Sergius. —  How  did  it  happen  ? 

Marusia. —  How  is   a   star  extinguished  ?     How  does   a   bird  die   in 
captivity  ?     He  ceased  singing,  grew  pale  and  sad,  but  kept  on  comforting 
me.     Only  once  he  said:  '  I  can't  understand  the  iron  grating.     What  is  an 
iron  grating  ?     It  is  between  me  and  the  sky.' 
Sergius. —  Between  me  and  the  sky  ? 

Marusia. —  And  just  at  this  time  they  beat  him  unmercifully.  The 
prisoners  raised  a  little  mutiny  and  the  result  was  that  the  keepers  forced  the 
doors  open  and  beat  them  one  by  one.  They  beat  them  with  their  fists, 
they  trampled  upon  them  with  their  feet.  They  beat  them  terribly  and  for 
a  long  time  —  these  stupid,  cold-blooded  beasts.  And  they  did  not  spare 
your  son,  either.  When  I  saw  him  his  face  was  something  awful.  The  dear, 
beautiful  face  that  used  to  smile  to  the  whole  world!  They  had  torn  his 
mouth  —  the  beautiful  lips  that  had  never  uttered  a  falsehood.  Had  nearly 
gouged  his  eyes  out  —  the  eyes  that  saw  only  the  beautiful.  Do  you  under- 
stand that,  father  ?  Do  you  approve  of  it  ? 
Sergius. —  Go  on. 

Marusia. —  Already  in  prison  there  awakened  in  him  this  terrible, 
deadly  melancholy.  He  didn't  blame  anybody;  he  even  defended  the  keep- 
ers —  his  murderers.  But  the  black  anguish  grew  larger  and  larger.  His 
soul  was  dying.  But  he  kept  soothing  and  pacifying  me,  and  once  he  said 
to  me, '  I  carry  within  my  soul  the  sorrow  of  the  whole  world.' 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  463 

Sergius. —  Go  on. 

Marusia. —  First  his  memory  began  to  fail  him;  then  he  ceased  talking. 
He  would  come  out  silent,  would  remain  so  while  I  would  talk  to  him,  and  go 
away  silently.  His  eyes  grew  larger  and  darker,  as  if  they  contained  within 
them  the  anguish  of  all  the  world  —  and  father,  such  beauty  I  have  never 
beheld  before!  When  I  went  to  see  him  to-day  —  he  had  already  been  taken 
to  the  hospital.  When  they  took  him  out  for  a  walk  yesterday  —  he  wanted 
to  throw  himself  out  through  the  window,  but  he  was  caught  in  time.  Then 
—  madness,  the  straight  jacket  —  and  that's  all. 

Sergius. —  Have  you  seen  him  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes,  I  saw  him.  But  I  am  not  going  to  say  anything 
about  it.  I  can't.  Shattered  is  the  beautiful  form! 

Sergius. —  They  have  ever  stoned  their  prophets. 

Marusia. —  Father!  But  how  can  one  live  among  these  who  slay  their 
prophets?  Whither  shall  I  go!  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  can  no  longer 
look  at  man's  countenance  —  it  frightens  me!  Man's  countenance  —  how 
terrible!  Man's  countenance!  I  have  cried  out  all  my  tears  already.  The 
same  anguish  ahead  of  me!  The  last  mortal  anguish.  You  see  —  I  am 
quiet.  Look  how  many  stars!  (A  pause.} 

Sergius. —  Does  Inna  know  it  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes. 

Sergius. —  What  do  the  doctors  say  ? 

Marusia. —  They  say :     An  idiot. 

Sergius. —  Nicholas  —  an  idiot  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes.  He'll  live  long;  he'll  grow  indifferent;  will  eat  and 
drink  lots;  will  grow  stout.  Yes,  he'll  live  long.  He'll  be  happy 

Sergius. —  Nicholas  —  an  idiot!  How  difficult  it  is  to  imagine  that. 
This  beautiful  man,  this  harmonious,  luminous  spirit  plunged  into  darkness, 
into  wearisome,  miserable,  barely  movable  chaos.  He  must  have  grown  ugly 
now,  Marusia  ? 

Marusia  (bitterly}. —  Yes,  he  is  ugly.     Do  you  care  ? 

Sergius. —  I  am  glad  that  you  are  so  calm.  I  didn't  think  you  were  so 
strong. 

Marusia. —  Day  after  day  for — for  a  whole  month,  I  have  been  under- 
going this  continuous  strain  and  torture.  I  have  grown  used  to  it.  What 
is  habit,  father  ?  It  must  be  a  kind  of  insanity  too 

Sergius. —  What  are  you  going  to  do  now  ? 

Marusia. —  I  don't  know.  I  haven't  thought  of  it  yet.  I  would  be 
ashamed  of  myself,  father,  to  think  of  my  life,  my  new  life,  when  the  grave  is 
so  fresh  in  my  memory.  It  takes  some  time  even  for  a  dog  to  forget  her  dead 
pups. 


464  TO  THE  STARS 

Sergius. —  I  shall  take  care  of  Nicholas  now,  he  needs  but  very  little, 
and  you,  Marusia,  must  not  go  to  see  him.  Don't  go  at  all. 

Marusia. —  No,  sir,  I  am  going  to  do  it. 

Sergius. — That's  scoffing;  that's  not  right,  any  more  than  it  would  be  to 
keep  a  corpse  in  one's  room.  Corpses  are  to  be  destroyed  by  fire. 

Marusia. —  I  would  even  keep  a  corpse  in  my  room. 

Sergius. —  What  for  ? 

Marusia. —  Do  you  know  pretty  Helen  ?  Well,  I  am  going  to  take  her 
with  me. 

Sergius. —  Are  you  against  anybody  ? 

Marusia. —  I  don't  know, —  against  you. 

Sergius. —  Against  me  ? 

Marusia. —  Yes,  I  have  hit  it;  I  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  now.  I 
shall  build  a  city  and  shall  people  it  with  all  the  old,  like  pretty  Helen,  with 
all  the  wretched  and  the  crippled,  the  insane,  and  the  blind.  There  shall 
also  be  there  the  deaf  and  dumb,  the  lepers  and  the  palsied.  I  am  also 
going  to  have  murderers 

Sergius. —  I  am  sorry  for  you,  Marusia. 

Marusia. —  I  am  also  going  to  people  it  with  traitors  and  liars,  and 
creatures  like  man,  but  more  terrible  than  beasts.  And  the  houses  will 
resemble  the  dwellers  therein — crooked,  hunchbacked,  blind,  diseased; 
dwellings  of  murderers  and  traitors.  And  they  will  collapse  upon  the  heads 
of  those  who  will  occupy  them.  They  will  lie  and  stifle  with  ease.  And  we 
are  going  to  have  constant  murders,  famine,  and  mourning.  I  shall  appoint 
as  king  Judas  Iscariot,  and  I  shall  name  the  city  *  To  the  stars!  ' 

Sergius. —  Poor  Marusia,  I  am  very  sorry  for  you. 

Marusia. — You  are  not  sorry  for  your  son. 

Sergius. —  I  have  no  children.     All  human  beings  are  alike  to  me. 

Marusia. —  How  heartless.     No,  I  shall  never  understand  you. 

Sergius. —  This  is  because  I  think  of  all.  I  think  of  the  past,  also  of  the 
future.  I  think  of  the  earth  and  the  stars  —  of  all,  and  in  the  mist  of  the 
past  I  can  see  myriads  that  have  perished,  and  in  the  mist  of  the  future  I  can 
also  see  myriads  of  those  who  are  going  to  perish;  and  I  see  the  Cosmos, 
and  I  see  everywhere  about  me  endless  rejoicing  life  —  therefore  I  cannot 
mourn  the  loss  of  one! 

(!NNA  ALEXANDROVNA  and  PETIA  appear  on  the  staircase.  She  walks 
with  difficulty,  supporting  herself  on  PETIA.  They  slowly  pass  through  the 
dome.} 

Inna  Alexandrovna  (throwing  herself  upon  her  husband). —  Our  Ko- 
lushka,  Kolushka! 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF 


465 


Sergtus  (makes  her  sit  down  gently,  straightens  out  and  shouts). —  They 
robbed  us  of  our  son!  Imbeciles;  fools;  raising  their  own  hands  upon  them- 
selves. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  It's  nothing,  papa.  We'll  manage  to  get  along. 
Kolushka  dear,  Kolushka 

Sergtus. —  They  would  extinguish  the  sun  if  they  could  reach  it  —  so  as 
to  die  in  darkness.  They  took  our  son  away!  They  took  him  away.  They 
have  taken  our  light  away.  (Stamps  with  his  foot.  PETIA  and  MARUSIA 
crying,  fall  on  their  knees  and  are  caressing  INNA  ALEXANDROVNA.  SERGIUS 
NIKOLAIEVITCH  walks  off  a  few  paces  and  returns.} 

Marusia. —  Forgive  me,  father. 

Sergtus. —  You  must  not  cry.  You  mustn't.  We  possess  thought; 
we  possess  reason.  Oh,  do  help  us!  Yes,  I  am  probably  getting  old. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Kolushka! 

Sergius. —  That's  nothing.  Life,  life  is  everywhere.  Just  at  this 
moment  —  yes  at  this  very  moment!  Somebody  is  born;  it  may  be  a 
Nicholas, —  nay,  better  than  he,  for  nature  does  not  repeat  herself. 

Marusia. —  Is  born  to  go  mad,  to  perish.  Is  born  only  to  be  mourned 
by  his  mother.  Is  that  what  you  want  to  say  ? 

Sergius. —  Life,  like  a  gardener,  cuts  off  the  best  flowers, —  but  their 
fragrance  fills  the  earth.  .  .  .  Look  there;  into  that  infinite  space,  into 
that  inexhaustible  ocean  of  creative  energy.  Look,  how  peaceful.  But  if 
you  could  only  hear  through  space  and  see  through  eternity  —  you  would 
perhaps  die  with,  perhaps  be  inflamed  with  joy.  With  cold  frenzy,  obedient 
to  the  iron  will  of  gravitation,  countless  worlds  whirl  around  in  space  along 
their  orbits  —  and  over  them  all  there  rules  but  one  great,  one  immortal 
spirit. 

Marusia  (getting  up). —  Don't  talk  to  me  about  a  God. 

Sergius. —  I  talk  of  a  creature  like  ourselves,  who  is  also  suffering  and 
thinking,  also  searching  and  seeking.  I  don't  know  him,  but  I  like  him  as  a 
friend,  as  a  comrade. 

When  at  the  casual  meeting  of  two  mysterious  powers  the  first  life 
flamed  up,  the  tiny,  infinitesimal  life  of  the  amoeba,  protoplasm, —  already 
at  that  moment  these  huge,  luminous  bodies  had  found  their  master. 
This  is  —  we  who  are  here  and  those  who  are  there. 

Mighty  space  of  heaven!  ancient  mystery!  you  are  above  my  head, 
you  are  within  my  soul,  and  you  are  also  at  my  feet, —  at  the  feet  of  your 
master! 

Marusia. —  It  is  silent,  father!     It  laughs  at  you! 

Sergius. —  Yes,  but  I  will  —  and  it  speaks! 


466  TO  THE  STARS 

Thither,  into  that  ocean  blue,  my  searching  glance  I  send  forth,  and 
gliding  from  space  to  space  it  comprehends  and  conceives  things  which  no 
man  has  ever  seen. 

I  call  —  and  from  the  darkest  crevices  of  the  earth  crawl  forth,  obedient 
to  my  command,  trembling  mystery.  She  writhes  from  fear  and  anger, 
she  threatens  me  with  her  bifurcated  tongue,  blinks  her  blind  eyes  —  power- 
less, pitiful  monster, —  and  then  I  rejoice,  and  I  say  unto  space  and  time: 
'  Hail  to  you,  son  of  eternity!  Hail  to  you,  my  unknown,  distant  friend! ' 

Marusia. —  But  death,  madness,  and  the  wild  orgy  of  slaves  ?  Father, 
I  cannot  leave  this  earth;  I  don't  want  to  leave  it.  She  is  so  unfortunate. 
She  breathes  anguish  and  horror  —  but  she  gave  me  life,  and  I  carry  in  my 
blood  her  sufferings  and  her  sorrows,  and  like  a  wounded  bird,  my  soul  is 
ever  falling  towards  the  earth. 

Sergius. —  There  is  no  death. 

Marusia. —  And  Nicholas  ?     And  your  son  ? 

Sergius. —  He  is  in  you,  he  is  in  Petia,  he  is  in  me  —  he  is  in  all  of  us, 
who  keep  sacred  the  fragrance  of  his  soul.  Is  Giordano  Bruno  dead  ? 

Marusia. — He  was  great. 

Sergius. —  Only  beasts  die,  for  they  have  no  soul.  Only  those  die  who 
murder,  but  the  murdered,  the  tortured,  the  burnt, —  these  live  forever. 
Man  is  immortal!  there  is  no  death  for  the  Son  of  eternity! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Kolushka!     Kolushka! 

Sergius. —  In  the  temples  of  the  ancients  an  everlasting  fire  was  kept. 
The  wood  turned  into  ashes,  the  oil  burned  up,  but  the  flame  was  kept  up 
forever. 

Don't  you  feel  it  here, —  everywhere  ?  Don't  you  feel  within  you  its 
pure  flame  ?  Who  gave  you  this  gentle  soul  ?  Whose  thought  that  flew  out 
from  some  mortal  body  is  abiding  within  you  ?  Can  you  say  that  that  is 
your  thought  ?  Your  soul  is  but  an  altar  upon  which  the  Son  of  eternity  is 
performing  divine  services.  (Holding  out  his  arms  towards  the  stars.}  Hail 
to  you,  to  you,  my  unknown,  my  distant  friend! 

Marusia. —  I  shall  go  forth  into  life. 

Sergius. —  Go.  Return  to  life  that  which  you  have  taken  from  her. 
Give  back  to  the  sun  her  warmth.  You  shall  perish  as  has  perished  Nicholas 
and  as  are  perishing  all  those  whose  measureless  happy  souls  are  destined  to 
support  the  everlasting  fire.  But  by  your  death  you  shall  find  immortality. 
To  the  Stars ! 

Petia. —  You  are  crying,  father.     Let  me  kiss  your  hands,  let  me! 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Don't.  Don't  cry,  papa.  We'll  manage  to  get 
in  —  somehow. 


LEONID  ANDREIEFF  467 

Marusia. —  I  shall  go.  I  shall  keep  sacred  all  that  has  been  left  of 
Nicholas  —  his  noble  thoughts,  his  tender  love,  his  gentle  soul.  Let  them 
again  and  again  kill  him  within  me,  but  high  above  my  head  I  shall  carry 
his  pure,  uncorrupted  soul. 

Sergius  (holding  out  his  hands  towards  the  stars). —  Hail  to  you,  my 
unknown,  distant  friend! 

Marusia  (holding  down  her  hands  towards  the  earth}. —  I  greet  thee, 
my  dear,  my  suffering  brother. 

Inna  Alexandrovna. —  Nicholas  —  Nicholas 


THE  LYRIC  ORIGINS  OF  SWINBURNE 

BY  VAN  TYNE  BROOKS 

MR.  GOSSE  has  said  of  Keats  that  at  the  time  of  his  death 
he  was  '  rapidly  progressing  towards  a  crystallization  into 
one  fused  and  perfect  style  of  all  the  best  elements  of  the 
poetry  of  the  ages.'     It  is  only  because  Swinburne's  in- 
dividuality  is    always  the  pre-eminent   thing,    because   he 
somehow  submerges    and    transforms  into  Swinburne  all 
gifts  of  phrase  and  mood,  that  this  may  not  obviously  be  applied  to  him  also. 
He  has  been  sensitive,  as  a  great  poet  must  be,  to  all  the  elements  of  the 
world's  anthology.     He  has  detected  all,  assimilated  all,  identified  all. 

Most  preromantic  poets  were  the  product  of  some  single  school,  had 
some  one  principal  prototype.  Milton  could  hardly  have  written  without 
Virgil,  Dryden  without  Juvenal,  Johnson  without  Seneca,  Congreve  without 
Moliere.  But  scholarship  was  almost  a  hindrance  to  the  romanticists. 
What  Sappho  might  have  sung  of  the  passions  of  life  could  have  no  vital 
literary  effect  on  a  Shelley  whose  own  emotions  and  whose  own  genius  for 
expression  were  in  such  intimate  relationship.  Mode  was  cast  aside, 
precedent  was  of  no  avail;  it  was  the  individual  singing  to  the  individual  — 
neither  a  product  of  evolution,  both  essentially  primitive.  It  was  thus  that 
Burns  found  an  audience,  that  Byron  threw  aside  the  ideal  Greece  for  the 
Greece  of  reality. 

Keats  was  not  scholarly  enough  to  apprehend  the  phrase  of  other  litera- 
tures. He  interpreted  the  Greek  feeling,  without  reading  a  word  of  the 
Greek  language;  he  was  a  Spenserian  by  instinct,  a  Provencal  by  tempera- 
ment. Browning  and  Tennyson  were  reactionaries.  The  scholarship  that 
returned  with  them  did  not,  like  Johnson's,  destroy  the  poetry:  the  poetry 
that  was  in  them,  did  not,  as  in  Burns,  destroy  the  scholarship.  Rather 
the  scholarship  and  the  poetry  were  co-ordinate  and  always  imperfectly  fused. 
But  Swinburne  liquifies  and  welds  both  elements.  He  is  a  great 
scholar  in  the  greatest  sense  —  a  great  artist  in  scholarship.  He  conceals 
the  traces  of  midnight  oil,  he  grows  more  and  more  human.  The  whole 
world  of  poetry  seems  to  have  passed  into  him,  and  to  have  come  forth  es- 
sentially his  own.  I  deny  neither  Browning's  subtler  penetration  nor 
Tennyson's  extraordinary  range  of  human  appeal.  But  I  assert  that  Swin- 
burne, greater  or  less  than  they,  is  far  more  typically,  more  purely  a  poet. 

468 


Date  Due 


-NSV-a 


ocr 


KC 


RECDNOV 


13  1973 


PRINTED  IN   U.S.*.  CAT.     NO.     24      161 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


Illllll  1111  HI"  I""1  IIB"  BIMI     " 

A    001  021  968     1 


